Old Truths, New Confessions
by Alidiabin
Summary: A dead Naval Admiral brings old relationships back together, and helps new ones begin. A Ziva's mother story. Tony/Ziva eventually. Multi-chap. Sorta case fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Old Truths, New Confessions**  
Fandom: **NCIS**  
Author: **Alidiabin**  
Disclaimer: **I own nothing**  
Warnings/ Spoilers: **nothing past 8x10**  
Parings: **Tony/Ziva,  
**Summary: **A dead Naval Admiral brings old relationships back together, and helps new ones begin.  
**Notes**: Thank you Anoymous033 for being my beta (that being said all errors are mine and mine alone) and sounding board, and ME Woffard for being another sounding board.

_**Chapter One**_

The sky was a dark ebony black colour when Rivka Yaakov (formerly David) woke up on the hard wooden deck of the boat she had been sailing on for a few weeks, but the boat was currently docked in a harbour unfamiliar to Rivka. As she woke, she found her head hurt, far worse than it ever had when she had a fondness for pills or when she had young children to care for She squinted, adjusting to being awake and trying to relieve her blinding headache. She had been through worse, she told herself. Her thoughts turned to the other passenger on the yacht, her boyfriend Admiral Leo Black. _Where was he? _She wondered.

"Leo," she called but got no response, except for the sound of waves lapping around the boat in the harbour.

She slowly sat up, pretending her headache was not as bad as it was. She felt dizzy and cold. She looked down to see what she was wearing: a dark black coat. Under the shining moonlight she saw shimmers of scarlet red. She ran her finger across the red smudge trying to examine what it was. She brought her ruby red-smudged fingertip into her eye line; she realised that it was blood.

"Leo," she cried again, her voice now filled with desperation. She got no response.

She slowly got up; her head pounded. Her neck and back ached with age. She looked up at the moon; the light reflected the grey streaks in her wavy chocolate-coloured hair. It shone over her pale face and her light brown eyes; the light did not heal the hurt present in her eyes which were the windows to a soul broken fifteen years ago by the death of her youngest daughter.

"Leo!" she screamed as tears formed in her pain-filled eyes.

Rivka surveyed the deck of the boat desperately looking for her boyfriend. She prayed that he would emerge from inside the boat with a smile across his middle-aged features; a smile that would light up his icy blue eyes. She looked up at the moon remembering how it shone on his grey hair. She saw a strange hump of something across the deck.

"Le-" she called before choking up.

She rushed towards the hump, desperately hoping and praying it was not him. She reached a spot a few feet away from him and closed her eyes, offering a silent prayer to a God she no longer believed in. She begged and pleaded with God that it was not him, for Rivka had already lost too much.

She turned over the body. God had not been on her side that night. Leo Black's middle-aged face looked back at her, his icy blue eyes closed, his grey hair reflecting under the soft moonlight. Tears fell down Rivka's face. She could not stay, she decided. She rushed off the boat. She rushed into an unknown city.

On her way to get off the boat she knocked over her handbag. The leather bag was open and the contents tipped out like sand out of a digger. A photograph from about twenty years ago fell out. It was of two olive-skinned girls; one aged fifteen, one aged eleven. The moonlight fell on the elder of the curly haired girls.

The silver moonlight fell on Rivka's last living child Ziva David.

**XXX**

There was a yellow taxi-cab parked across the street from the harbour; it had an American flag bumper sticker and Rivka determined she was in the United States of America. She ran across the black tar road barefoot.

The cabbie was about her age, but had aged badly – he looked old enough to be a great grandfather. He was fast asleep in the driver's seat of his locked cab. He had been on his shift since 0600 the previous morning, and quite frankly was exhausted. A faint but urgent knocking woke him from his much needed slumber. He looked up at what the night had brought him. A woman with grey streaks in her dark hair and dark eyes which had a pained look deeply embedded in them, a pained look the cabbie recognized; he touched the photograph on the dashboard, of his son who had died serving for the US Navy.

He stared at the dishevelled woman on the other side of the glass for a second before unlocking the cab. As she sat down in the backseat, he noticed a golden Star of David necklace hanging from her neck. The voice of his racist father echoed in his mind for a second, before the voice of reason (his late son's) reminded him that a fare was a fare. The woman took a series of deep breaths.

"Where to ma'am?" he asked quietly. She looked out of the windows.

"Where are we?" she asked in response. The taxi driver studied her for a moment; he wondered if she was drunk or high but to be honest he did not really care.

"Norfolk ma'am," he said; she looked at him blankly. "Just outside Washington DC." he uttered. A look of recognition crossed her features. "Where to ma'am?" he asked for the second time.

Rivka let herself think for a second. Washington DC was the capital city of the USA, which meant there was an Israeli embassy there. As a technical Israeli citizen she could seek refuge there, and hopefully get herself out of trouble. Of course, that was all based on the idea that the Mossad official at the embassy had any idea who she was. She played with the golden Star of David on her neck, making a decision. The driver turned on the meter.

"The Israeli embassy please," she said, "And do not call me ma'am." the driver nodded and turned on the engine.

**XXX**

Michael Bashan, the long-standing Mossad official at the Israeli embassy and insomniac did his nightly walk around the compound of the Israeli embassy in Washington DC. Bashan always enjoyed his very early morning walks as they gave the old man time to reflect.

Lately his reflections had been about his former friend the now Mossad director Eli David; the pair had met in Mossad training, and Bashan had become Eli's voice of reason. Whenever Eli had had a reckless idea on how to kill a suspect, Bashan had given Eli the facts and suggested a more conventional way. Bashan was the only Mossad officer whom Eli had told of his illegitimate son Ari, until Ari became a Mossad officer. Bashan had played the 'godparent' role in Eli's three children's lives (this part is a bit tricky because they are no longer friends).

Of course Bashan had also spent the majority of Eli David's marriage with Rivka Yaakov, screwing Rivka. It was that which had caused the end to Eli and Bashan's friendship at about the same time that Rivka broke off relationships with both men, and ran off to Haifa with her children in early 1991. Eli and Bashan's friendship had ended rather violently, with the two men by then in their forties resorting to schoolboy violence in a bar frequented by Mossad officers.

Bashan had been banished from Israel by the director of Mossad and had spent the last twenty years hopping between various embassies in many different countries. Eli, who still trusted Bashan with his children but not his women, had managed to get Bashan assigned to the US embassy when Ari was running wild, to keep tabs on his son. When Ziva became Mossad Liaison Officer, Bashan was ordered to stay and keep tabs on her, and despite her new status as an American NCIS Agent Bashan still sent Eli a selection of photographs each month, mostly of Ziva and very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo at each other's doors.

Bashan reached the edge of the compound, where as expected he found the Ambassador's seventeen year-old son Chaim Likud dressed to the nines, and reeking of alcohol. On the crisp spring night, he had company none other than the scantily dressed fifteen-year-old daughter of the Saudi Arabian ambassador. Bashan found the two young lovebirds lying in one of the bushes sharing what Bashan hoped was just a tobacco cigarette but knew was probably laced with marijuana.

Bashan found himself smirking, remembering the many times he had caught Eli's two elder children doing far worse, as they were just as rebellious as Chaim Likud.

"Hey Bashy," Chaim slurred, using a nickname Bashan did not like, when he finally noticed the presence of the elder man. "Don't tell my abba," the boy said in a desperate tone.

"Do not worry," Bashan said calmly before walking off. Bashan had never been a tell-tale even in school. He much preferred having leverage over people by knowing the secrets no one else knew.

Sadness suddenly washed over Bashan like the red sea washed over golden sands at high tide. The feeling was familiar; he had often felt it after encountering a child. Bashan wondered why he had never had children; of course the reasoning was obvious – he had only ever been in love once, with a married woman who already had children. Bashan had often found himself wishing Tali David had been his child when she was alive. After her death, when he saw how the remaining members of the David family fell apart, he felt guilty for having such a silly wish.

Bashan reached the gate of the embassy. He looked out onto Embassy Row. He watched as the Japanese ambassador kissed her gay lover goodnight; the poor young woman watched the ambassador run home towards her husband and sobbed before driving off.

The German head of security threw an empty vodka bottle into the bushes of the British embassy and stumbled drunkenly towards his embassy. Bashan shook his head, remembering his lone encounter with the man at a security conference; the blonde haired man had smelt like a brewery and been subtly anti-Semitic.

The yellow taxi-cab drifted down Embassy Row. Rivka found herself looking out the window remembering many tedious dinner parties filled with ambassadors and low-level political ministers, where the craziness really came out after a few drinks. The taxi-cab driver stopped in front of the Israeli embassy; the stop broke Rivka from her musings of her past.

Bashan watched as the taxi stopped in front of the gate to the Israeli embassy; he mentally racked his brain for who could be arriving at such a ridiculous hour. He knew the schedule of all the people who worked at the embassy and could not think of a single expected visitor, except for the Ambassador's mother-in-law Gillah Shalev, who was a terrible bore of a woman, and who seemed to have her heart set on Bashan despite being almost two decades older than him, but much to Bashan's relief she was not due for another week.

Rivka slowly emerged from the car, and found herself looking directly at her past. Michael Bashan, her former lover stood behind the gate of the Israeli embassy with a confused look on his face. She slowly walked away from the taxi.

Bashan's mouth dropped open as he realised who was standing before him, in bare feet and a blood-stained black coat.

"Miche," she called, using an old nickname for him. Bashan opened the gate, and Rivka walked towards him focusing only on him.

He walked towards her. They met on the pavement. Bashan's arms wrapped around her slender dancers' body. The driver disturbed their moment by leaning out of his window.

"Hey, I don't know what you do in Israel, but here we pay for taxi rides," the driver said. Bashan handed the taxi driver some money, not caring about the change as he walked off.

Rivka felt Bashan's hand wrap around hers. He led her towards the Israeli embassy. Rivka felt oddly apprehensive as she walked onto what was technically Israeli soil.

**A/N**: Don't worry familiar characters will return to your screens next chapter. Thank you Anonymous033 for the name.

The old one wasn't working and got rid of my lines.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_She was in her mother's white-walled apartment in Haifa, the apartment they had lived in when her parents divorced. Ziva looked around the white-walled house; the white curtains were dancing in the salty sea wind. She looked at the ebony-colored piano. There was a pair of white ballet slippers sitting on top of the piano, the long silky ribbons draping over it. Ziva looked at the white shoes; she walked towards them preparing to touch the silky texture. Her mother Rivka had been a professional ballet dancer and whenever Ziva saw ballet shoes, she thought of her mother. Ziva looked around the empty white room expecting to see her mother. Expecting to see her dark hair, chocolate eyes, and pale skin. She saw nothing. She turned back to the piano and saw the ballet shoes engulfed in orange flames._

"Ima!" Ziva cried as she woke up. She found herself sitting on her red couch, with Tony's arms stretched out across her.

She looked around her dark apartment and realized she and Tony had fallen asleep after one of their movie and takeout nights. The DVD case of 'The Hurt Locker' sat on Ziva's wooden coffee table next to wrappers from Subway and a few bottles of low-percentage alcoholic beer.

Tony had been awoken by her dream. He wondered briefly, what this one was about as Ziva had so many demons; Ari, Tali, Somalia or an old Mossad mission. He rubbed her back, like he always did when she woke up from a nightmare. It usually sent her back to sleep or calmed her down enough for them to speak.

"You ok?" he asked groggily and without opening his eyes.

"Yes," she whispered. "Go back to sleep, I am fine." She added.

Ziva turned and looked at him; she could not be bothered to explain her strange nightmare. For now, a lie was much simpler, especially as she could not explain exactly what her weird dream meant.

Ziva had not thought about Rivka for years; they had had a practically vicious fight when Ziva had informed her mother she was following her father into Mossad, doing exactly what Rivka had not wanted her to do. Rivka had wanted her Ziva to be a music teacher or a translator, as she seemed to have talent in music and languages.

When Tali died, Ziva had not gone to the funeral; she had headed to Edinburgh where Ari was and gotten hideously drunk with one of his medical school friends before finally letting herself grieve, a process that involved her trashing Ari's very small and badly decorated flat. The last Ziva heard of her mother, Rivka was being a wandering Jew and wandering around the world doing charity work in the name of her late daughter.

Ziva felt a pang of regret mixed with agonizing guilt. Rivka had often been in her thoughts in Somalia, while she sat alone in the empty sand-colored cell. When Ziva returned to DC after Somalia she had intended to find her mother again, but she had quickly realized she was broken. Rivka had warned Ziva that Mossad would break her, and Ziva had of course not believed what appeared to be the truth. Ziva had told herself she would heal before she decided to find Rivka again. Other things had come up since, and plans for a mother-daughter relationship had been put off.

Tony fell back to sleep. Ziva pulled his arms off her, and stood up. The cold wooden floorboards caused her to shiver. Despite the sudden movement, Tony's sleep seemed to be minimally disturbed. She looked back at her partner. Thoughts about their very complicated relationship suddenly filled her head.

The pair had recently been trying to repair their friendship with a series of semi-planned movie nights. They both craved the friendship they had once had, a friendship that had been damaged by so much over the past four years. They desperately wanted to get back to how it was before. Before Jeanne, before Roy, before Ziva slept with a suspect, before Jenny's death, before Vance split them up, before they spent a summer apart, before Ziva almost got blown up, before Michael Rivkin turned up, before Somalia, and before Tony missed Ziva's citizenship, the most important day of her life. Before everything.

Ziva found herself needing to get air; she looked at Tony on her couch, making sure he was fast asleep, which he was. She tiptoed to the French doors that led to the balcony of her apartment; she slowly opened them and tiptoed out.

The cold air hit her face; it was strangely refreshing and it woke Ziva up. Ziva looked out at her bare balcony; she vowed to get a potted plant for the empty space. She slowly sat down, leaning her back against the glass door. She pulled at her day-old jeans that had clung to her when she and Tony had fallen asleep sharing body heat. Ziva leaned her head back, and tried to wrap her head around her dream and her and Tony's ever-complicated relationship.

Tony had not properly fallen back to sleep after Ziva's nightmare, and he had heard the word 'Ima' uttered from her soft lips and realized it was not her usual nightmare; no Somalia, no Ari, no Mossad officer with a name he could not pronounce. Her nightmares were usually some twisted reminders of her summer at Salim'sCamp of Hell in Somalia. Tony, whose knowledge of Hebrew came from the one Hebrew podcast he had listened to when he was trying to poke his nose into Ziva's life two years ago during the Rivkin fiasco, knew 'Ima' meant mother. He knew enough about Ziva's parents to realize Ziva and her mother did not get on well. He wondered what the dream had been about.

He had heard Ziva walk towards the balcony a few minutes beforehand and had decided not to follow her, letting her sort through her own thoughts, knowing she would seek his comfort if she needed him. He stretched out his legs on Ziva's unbelievably small red couch, not willing to leave her completely alone. He closed his eyes but he did not sleep properly, knowing that his partner was hurting.

**XXX**

Rivka stood in Bashan's red-walled office; she admired the blue-and-white flag behind his desk. Rivka had a complicated relationship with the blue-and-white flag; she had long ago realized those were the only two colours her former husband saw the world in. Eli only saw what Israel needed and what was best for Israel. Sadly, that included sending their eldest daughter to fight with little concern for her own mortality.

Rivka also saw the flag and remembered a country that had welcomed her with open arms; she remembered the beautiful landscapes and the ancient beauty of Jerusalem. She also remembered Tali's empty coffin covered with the flag, the flag that Tali had died for not as a solider, but as an innocent civilian taking the bus to a peace rally.

Rivka drifted towards the other wall that did not have a door or a window; it had become a photo wall. Rivka admired the many photographs of Bashan and various low-level political ministers.T here was even a photo of Bashan and Eli from nearly forty years ago, before Rivka knew either of them. Rivka slowly walked along the wall admiring the photos and trying to recall the names of the many familiar faces in the photographs.

Suddenly, her eye was drawn to another older photograph, this one was about twenty-five years old and showing a younger Rivka standing between Ziva and Tali who were ten and six respectively they were holding shells from the shore at Haifa. She looked at the photo, remembering another holiday Eli had bowed out of due to work commitments. Bashan had driven up during the second week, believing Rivka to be overwhelmed with dealing with the two disappointed children alone. He had arrived and for an afternoon made the children forget about their disappointment, and made Rivka fall even more in love with him.

Bashan listened to the kettle boil. The task of waiting had allowed him to lose himself in his thoughts. He wondered what sick plan God had in store for him now by dangling the only woman he had ever loved in front of him and in peril. Bashan had never married or had children with any woman; he had seen how Eli David treated his children and the women who bore them for him, and he refused to treat innocent people like that. There was also the small matter that he loved Rivka and could not find it in his soul to string a woman along with false promises.

The kettle stopped boiling and the silence of the room silenced Bashan's musings of the past. As he began to make the two cups of tea, he thought of the present and of Rivka's future. He decided he would get Rivka out of whatever peril she had found herself in, even though she would hate to be seen as the damsel in distress; she had after all been a feminist and had instilled such values in her daughters. Hopefully, Bashan mused, this tale would end with his heart still intact.

Rivka heard the door of Bashan's office open; she saw him trying to carry the two hot cups of tea rather awkwardly. He had obviously not been a waiter in a previous life. The pair found themselves standing in each other's personal space. Each inhaling the other's scents, each tempted to kiss the other one. Neither decided to step back. Rivka took the tea from Bashan's hands, but did not drink it. Instead, she let the hot mug burn her hands reminding her she was still alive, and this was not just some weird dream.

"Rivi," Bashan whispered using his nickname for her. She looked up; Bashan saw her deep brown eyes and the pain they carried. She looked away focusing on the picture.

"You wish to know why I am here?" she asked softly. "Why I am a damsel in distress?" Bashan nodded but did not verbalize his answer. Rivka must have sensed his nod or like usual not waited for it, because she began to answer. "It looks like I might have killed a man I was sleeping with." She said matter-of-factly.

Bashan choked on his tea; he could not believe his ears. Rivka was not capable of murder. Bashan knew this: despite her feminist views she had not had the heart to abort either of her two children; he knew she could not kill a man, especially one she had slept with. He placed the half-drunk cup on the desk, knowing he would not be drinking anymore.

"It gets worse," she added after Bashan had been given a chance to digest the news. "He was an Admiral in the United States Navy."

_United States Navy _echoed in Bashan's head. That meant NCIS would be investigating. Bashan knew that the death of an Admiral would most likely go to the Major Case Response Team, the team Ziva was on. He swore under his breath. God really did have a sick plan for him, if the woman Bashan loved could go to prison for a crime she did not commit and the daughter of that woman, the daughter whom Bashan loved like his own, could get into serious trouble for investigating her mother. He swore again, this time in a different language.

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews and story alerts. And thank you to Anoymous033 for betaing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat on the floor of his basement; he was in a strange state – the state between wakefulness and sleep that insomniacs go through each night. Tonight, he was haunted by memories.

"_Daddy," Kelly's soft voice cried as she rushed down the basement stairs. Gibbs looked up at his daughter. He saw his red-haired wife at the top of the stairs; she smiled and walked off, in search of a bath after a long day at work. Shannon also wanted to give her husband and daughter time to bond as Gibbs was a marine and they never really knew (though they hoped) that Gibbs would be coming home from his next deployment._

"_Hey Kelly, did you have a good day?" Gibbs asked as he handed his daughter a sander; Kelly enthusiastically nodded. Gibbs smiled. She put her hands on top of the sander, and Gibbs put his hand over the top, guiding hers._

"_Me and Maddie," Kelly begun telling her father about her day._

The shrill ringing of his default factory ringtone blasting from his cell phone disturbed Gibbs' memory. Gibbs looked around his basement for the piece of technology he rather disliked. He saw the simple silver cell phone sitting in a glass jar that had once held screws a few weeks beforehand. The glass jar was making the shrill ringtone echo even louder. Gibbs groaned and groggily emptied the contents of the glass jar into his hand. He opened the flip phone and put it to his ear.

"Gibbs," he said gruffly. The dispatcher on the other end told Gibbs where he needed to go. He hung up the phone and headed up the stairs in search of caffeine.

**XXX**

Bashan watched as Rivka sat on the couch in his office. She was fiddling with her earrings, something she did when she was nervous. He took a deep breath. The room was silent; the cups of tea had been left to cool down.

"Miche," she said quietly. "Please say something," she begged. The silence worried Rivka; she desperately needed to hear that it would be okay, but she heard nothing.

"We should call Ziva." Bashan said, picking up his cell phone. Rivka looked up at him with a confused look on her face.

"What does this have to do with Mossad?" Rivka asked. Bashan then realized mother and daughter had not spoken in years; he doubted Rivka knew about Ziva's new citizenship, and the fact that she no longer belonged to Mossad. Bashan wondered if Rivka's image of her last living child was of the wild-haired angry twenty-year-old who usually wore combat pants, not of Ziva today, with her tamed hair, calmer demeanour, and slightly larger wardrobe.

"Ziva works as an NCIS agent for the United States Navy; she quit Mossad after NCIS rescued her from a Mossad mission that went wrong in Somalia in the autumn of 2009, and she had worked as a Mossad-NCIS liaison officer for four years beforehand here in DC." Bashan told her; Rivka still looked at him confused. "She also denounced her Israeli citizenship, and now has American citizenship." Bashan reported. Rivka's eyes all but popped out of her head.

"But," Rivka began, "Ziva has always been so proud of being Israeli." Rivka looked at her former lover, still not convinced he was not playing a trick on her. "Why?" she asked.

"You can ask her when she comes here," Bashan told her, as he scrolled down his mobile phone's contact list looking for Ziva's number. Rivka again looked at him confused. "She will be able to help you," Bashan was not really sure how Ziva would help but knew she would.

Rivka nodded, as Bashan reached Ziva's name in his contact list. He pressed the green call button, and bit his lip. In his experience, waking up Ziva David was not a good idea.

**XXX**

Ziva sat on her barren balcony looking out. She watched through the bars as drunks spilt out from the bar and stumbled towards yellow taxi-cabs. She watched as the neighbourhood's blonde-haired streetwalker leaned into the driver's window of a car, with her back arched. Ziva wished the woman well.

She kept opening and closing her phone with her thumb; she found the repetitive action soothing. The dream had made her analyse every conversation that she could remember ever having with her mother.

Ziva had few memories of a mother from before her school years; her lovely but barren Aunt Nettie had looked after her quite often then. But in Ziva's memories after Tali's birth she found her mother always present; in those years Rivka, Ziva, and Tali had been close and all of them had loved dance. Ziva recalled plenty of television-free evenings spent dancing to her mother's extensive records collection, with everything from Tchaikovsky's ballets to the Beatles' White Album.

By the time Ziva was eight and had her first fight with the Mossad director's sickly grandson Schmuel Rubenstein, and made friends with the new Muslim neighbour's son Khaleed, her and Rivka's relationship had begun to break. Things only got worse when Ziva quit dance in favour of Krav Maga, a class in which she was the only girl and the youngest participant by at least eighteen months. At that point, Ziva had also begun to notice the strain in her parents' marriage. She had begun to wonder how long it would be until the adults began to whisper D-I-V-O-R-C-E over her and Tali's heads. She wondered if she would become another statistic; if people would start referring to her and Tali as 'children of a broken home' and if her family would become like their neighbours the Cohen family and have to move away because a house in the exclusive Tel Aviv suburbs would be too expensive for a single mother to maintain.

When Rivka finally left Eli and the inevitable divorce finally happened in July 1991, Ziva had just turned fifteen and Tali was eleven and a half; both children had just finished the school year and were expecting to go to Haifa for their yearly holiday with their childless Aunt Nettie.

Rivka took what Ziva would always see as a cowardly move and left Eli when he was away on a mission. She had packed up all of the belongings that would fit in her beat up hatchback and driven all night across Israel to get to Haifa. Tali had naively believed that theirdestination meant an extended holiday, instead of the usual two weeks with Nettie. Ziva and Rivka had tried to indulge the childhood fantasy for as long as they could, especially while they stayed in a motel room.

Tali had eventually realised that they were now living in Haifa when Rivka rented a small two-bedroom apartment in an ugly-looking complex and enrolled her daughters in school. Ziva had been left to explain it all, while Rivka began working in an office during the day and being a ballet and piano teacher in the evening to bring in some extra money. Tali and Ziva became latchkey kids. Tali adjusted much quicker than Ziva; she made new friends and got sympathy from her teachers for being another statistic.

Ziva did not adjust so well; she desperately wanted to be back in Tel Aviv with her father and Tali, and as far as she was concerned Rivka could stay in Haifa. After a physical fight with a slutty girl in her class who had called Ziva and her mother 'whores', Ziva had been placed in detention, and there she had met a group of disillusioned youth who all had crappy home situations. A music teacher had led one of their detentions once and had found that the six of them all had musical talent. Instead of picking up rubbish that afternoon, the four boys and two girls had formed a band called 'Broken Beyond Belief'.

Rivka had not liked the group; she had not liked that the other girl Adi was a sexually active bisexual, and she had not liked that one of the boys Noam had been charged with drug possession. She had not liked that Lior dressed like he was going to a funeral every day, but Ziva had found a family; she had found a group of people who understood her and accepted her.

Rivka had been fuming when it became apparent Ziva had had sex with another member Ori while she was underage. The thing that had pissed off Rivka the most was when Ziva took Tali with her on one of the band's busking adventures, whilst Rivka was working. By the time Ziva turned sixteen she realised that despite twenty-three shared chromosomes, the only thing mother and daughter had in common was Tali. After all it had been Tali and not Rivka who had comforted her when Adi and Noam were killed in a car accident. Rivka had even coldly uttered 'good riddance' when she heard Lior had hanged himself .

When Ziva was in the army she had straightened out, but had also found herself trying to forge more of a relationship with her father; she had visited him a few times while on leave, before going to Haifa only to see Tali. She had found she and her father had even more in common than they had had when she had lived under his roof. Ziva had found herself signing up for Mossad, instead of for classes at university like Rivka wanted. When Ziva told Rivka she was joining Mossad, they had had the last of their vicious fights and had not seen each other since then.

Ziva's phone began to buzz and play her ringtone, which was 'Raise Your Glass' by Pink; she suspected the Major Case Response Team had been given a case. She held up the front of her phone to view the caller ID, expecting to see GIBBS in small black letters, but instead she saw the name of her father's henchman and her mother's former lover. BASHAN stared at her in black letters.

"What has my father done now?" she asked in her native tongue as she put the phone to her ear.

"Your father has done nothing," Bashan said, not surprised at Ziva's lack of small talk; she, like her father, was not a big user of small talk, and preferred to get straight to the reason for the conversation. "Your mother," he said.

"How did she die?" Ziva said, jumping to conclusions.

"She is not dead," Bashan said, "She is actually right here."

"In America?" Ziva asked, very confused at Bashan's statement.

"She is sitting in the Israeli embassy right now," Bashan said.

"What has she done?" Ziva asked as she stood up on the balcony; she looked through the glass door, and looked inside to see Tony still asleep.

"Well," Bashan said slowly.

"Spit it out," Ziva said in Hebrew.

"She may be involved in the death of a United States Navy Admiral," Bashan said. There was silence on the other end.

"Oh," Ziva said; she began to debate hanging up, not wanting to get caught up in her mother's craziness.

"Ziva, she needs your help. She is your mother and she needs your help," Bashan said before Ziva could think about hanging up. Ziva looked out at the city. She took a deep breath and thought about what she was going to say.

"Ok," spilt from her mouth. She heard Bashan make a surprised sound on the other end. "I will be there soon."

"Thank you," Bashan uttered.

"Ok," Ziva said again, as she slowly opened the balcony door.

"One more thing," Bashan said.

"What?" Ziva asked as she stepped into her lounge.

"Drive safely," Bashan said. "Your driving is as bad as Rivka's."

Ziva hung up the phone, grabbed her car keys, and left Tony half asleep on her couch. She walked out of the door feeling anxious, worried about what was going to happen, when she saw her mother for the first time in many years.

**A/N:**I know I made Ziva older by about 7 years but I refuse to buy the cannon that she's 28. In this story Ziva was born in November 1975, and Tali was born in February 1980, giving them a four-year-and-two-month age difference. And in my version of cannon Ari was born in September 1969.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

Tony heard the bottle green front door of Ziva's apartment slam close. He opened his eyes and found himself lying on Ziva's rather small red couch, completely alone in her apartment. He squinted at the green block numbers on Ziva's oven's clock; he was lying on his partner's couch, completely alone in her apartment at 0512, he thought. He sat up and looked around at the dark apartment, and he found remnants of their movie night scattered around the lounge. He forced himself to get up; he stretched whilst uttering curse words about the uncomfortableness of Ziva's couch. He felt the cold wooden floorboards beneath his feet, and then his phone rang. His ringtone, which was the Magnum theme tune, broke the silence of Ziva's apartment. He picked up the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Zi," he said before he heard the very recognizable heavy breathing and sipping of coffee of his boss Gibbs, a functioning mute. "Zi Boss!" he cried in a fake accent, trying to dig himself out of the hole he had found himself in.

"Case, Norfolk Harbor. Bring coffee." Gibbs barked, relaying orders that would usually take two minutes in less than thirty seconds. Tony was about to answer with a _yes Boss _when he heard his boss hang up. DiNozzo hung up as well.

He found his car keys in his pocket, and his discarded jacket. He was about to leave when his stomach let out a loud rumble. He looked up at Ziva's kitchen shelves and after a brief scan, found nothing with enough sugar to be a DiNozzo breakfast. He locked up Ziva's apartment to the best of his ability. He walked out of the apartment building and realized he had left his car at the Navy yard the day before when Ziva had agreed to a movie night; she had told him that they would take her car to save money, because fuel was so expensive in the current economic climate. He walked up the busy street Ziva lived on, to the bar where the taxis were waiting for an intoxicated passenger to crawl into one, and want to take the scenic route home. He knocked on the window of the one furthest away from the bar; a grey haired cabbie woke up. The cabbie saw DiNozzo, and unlocked the car. DiNozzo hopped in.

"It's your lucky day," he said as he told the driver where he needed to go and that they had to stop for coffee.

**XXX**

Gibbs walked onto the boat with a disposable coffee cup in his hand, his third coffee in the hour he been called by dispatch. He pressed the green call button on his cell phone and for the second time in that hour he heard the generic voicemail of his Israeli-American probationary agent.

_This is Ziva David, I cannot take your call right now, please leave your name, number, and a message, and I will get back to you_.

He was about to press the green call button for the third time when Ducky came aboard the boat with Palmer in tow. The two men were having a disagreement about directions; a common disagreement for the pair of them, as Palmer, it seemed, had never learnt to read a map.

"Sorry Jethro," Ducky said as he saw his friend standing above the body, "Mr Palmer is an even worse navigator this early in the morning." Gibbs smirked.

"Did ya see Ziver on your way in?" Gibbs asked as Ducky knelt beside the body. Ducky looked up at his friend.

"No," he said, "Should I have seen her?" Ducky let a concerned look cross his aging features; Ziva was a reliable agent and never one to be late.

Ducky could count with one of his hands the number of times she had been late in the five years he had known her. The first had been when she was still new to DC and had accidentally taken the wrong bus. The second had been when she had managed to end up framed by the Iranian intelligence community, leading to her being on the run from NCIS, Mossad, and her father. The third time had been not long after she returned from Somalia; she had had a doctor's appointment that had lasted longer than she expected.

"She's breaking rule three Duck," Gibbs said.

Ducky racked his mind for rule three, as despite being Gibbs's friend for a good many years, he still did not know all the rules by number. _Never be unreachable _echoed in Ducky's head. Ziva being unreachable happened even less than her being late.

"I am sure Ziva will be fine," Ducky said quietly to himself, which was much more of a prayer than a suggestion. "She will probably turn up in a minute with another traffic ticket." He said in a much louder voice, remembering many instances where Ziva had turned up to work, on time but in a foul mood because she had been pulled over by a Metro traffic cop. "After all, Ziva's driving can seem a little erratic especially to Metro PD's traffic officers."

Gibbs offered a grunt in response and walked off towards McGee; he tried calling Ziva again but again got her voicemail. _This is Ziva _played before Gibbs hung up.

"That's an understatement," Palmer said, continuing the conversation about Ziva's erratic driving once Gibbs had gone, as despite working with Gibbs for over six years, the medical examiner's assistant still felt uncomfortable talking around the stoic functional mute that was Gibbs. "She once picked me and Tony up; the cops were doing a drunk driving bust, and they were convinced she was drunk just by how she drove alone."

Ducky listened to the younger man, a tad surprised that Jimmy and DiNozzo were spending so much time together. Then he remembered the summer Gibbs was away, when Jimmy had proved to be a great sounding board for Tony, just as Ducky was to Gibbs. The elder man had often pictured Jimmy and Tony continuing the tradition of the great friendship between the Chief Medical Examiner and Major Case Response Team leader.

"Mr Palmer," Ducky said as he looked at the body. "Does this body look moved to you?"

Jimmy looked at the body; he was not a hundred per cent sure the body had been moved, but nonetheless he agreed with the elder man. Ducky was a wise man and usually right about those sort of things.

"Yes," he replied. "Did the killer do it?" Palmer offered as a suggestion, "Or perhaps Metro PD, when they were trying to ID him."

Ducky looked at the body, and he did not see the rushed turnover of a body to identify it; he saw a loving movement, perhaps a desperate attempt to save him. He took the liver temperature of the body

"TOD," Gibbs shouted from the inside of the boat; Ducky looked at his friend.

"About three hours ago," Ducky shouted back. It was 0630 now; the admiral had died at approximately 0330.

McGee held up the driver's license and typed the admirals' name into his iPhone.

"Leo Black, 63 years old; he was about to retire next week just before his 64th birthday. He's married to a May Black who lives in Chesapeake Bay," McGee read on his iPhone.

Gibbs nodded. "Photograph the scene and when DiNozzo finally turns up he'll bag and tag." Gibbs said, as he walked back towards Ducky.

McGee looked around the cabin of the boat; he found things he would not expect to find on a boat belonging to a sixty-four-year-old man. He found Olay moisturizer, the same type of moisturizer his own mother used despite McGee's father's constant compliments about his wife of forty years' goddess-like beauty. Other female effects also appeared in the cabin, including underwear and make-up. He eventually found a black leather brand imitation handbag stowed away in a cupboard under the window.

McGee tipped it out onto the floor, determined to find out the identity of the potential witness. More make-up fell out onto the floor, along with money in a foreign currency McGee did not recognize. A postcard from a country somewhere in Europe was tucked into a book not written in English.

A passport fell into his hand. It was black, and had golden Hebrew writing on it. McGee knew was Hebrew writing due to working with Ziva for so many years. He looked at the Israeli passport; he knew Black's wife had been an American as he had been so it was not hers. McGee opened the passport. The photo was of a woman in her late forties or early fifties, with deep brown eyes and brown hair; she was smartly dressed. Ziva had once told him that you had to be smartly dressed for an Israeli passport photo, unlike America where you could get away with a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. As McGee thought of his Israeli-American friend, he noticed the similarities between Ziva and the woman in front of him; they had similar features and a similar build.

Thankfully, the Israeli passport had Latinized Hebrew next to the Hebrew alphabet. Even though McGee only understood two words in Hebrew, those being 'Shalom' and 'todah', he managed to read the name Rivka Yaakov in his head. He had no idea how to pronounce it. He pulled up his federal agent search engine on his iPhone. His eyes popped as he read whom Ms Yaakov's former husband was – none other than Ziva's father Eli David. He looked at the dates of the marriage; she was Ziva's mother too. He had to find Gibbs.

**XXX**

DiNozzo sat in the back of the yellow taxi-cab, with the tray of Styrofoam coffee cups on his lap. He watched the meter go up and up; he sighed. The driver Rupert kept stifling yawns. They reached the harbour. A strange look came over the taxi driver's middle-aged face.

"What's wrong?" DiNozzo asked. The driver looked at the yellow crime scene tape and the people walking around. He knew all the commotion had not been there when he had picked up that woman almost three hours ago. He rather evilly wondered if the woman had killed whoever was dead on the boat.

"Déjà vu," the driver uttered quietly, "I was here a few hours ago. I picked up some woman; she was upset about something, but I never thought much about it."

Tony processed the man's sentence. The driver had seen the potential killer; that was almost too good to be true. Gibbs's rule echoed in his head. _No such things as coincidences. _DiNozzo knew the taxi driver needed to speak to Gibbs.

"You need to come with me." Tony said, "You need to speak to my boss."

"I'm keeping the meter on," the driver said.

DiNozzo let out a sigh as the number on the meter got higher and higher; looked like he was not going to eat three meals a day for a while. The meter continued to run.

Gibbs stood on the deck and sipped his coffee. He saw DiNozzo and McGee rushing towards him. McGee had a little black book in his hand, and trailing behind DiNozzo was a man about Gibbs's age.

"Boss," both men called at exactly the same time.

"Black had a woman with him," McGee said just before DiNozzo opened his mouth to speak again; he walked towards his boss with the black passport.

"And," Gibbs said as he took the coffee from DiNozzo's coffee tray. He took the passport from McGee.

"Our cabbie picked her up," DiNozzo said. Gibbs showed the passport to the cabbie.

"That's her," the cabbie said.

"Her name is Rivka Yaakov; she's an Israeli citizen, and her last name used to be David," McGee said.

"Which David?" Tony said. McGee looked at DiNozzo confused. DiNozzo was referring to the three David brothers; Abner, Eliahu and Uriel. Abner had died in the 1967 war and Uriel had died when Ziva was a teenager. Eli was the only still living brother of the three David brothers.

"She's Eli David's ex-wife and Ziva's mom," McGee said. He watched a surprised look cross both DiNozzo's and Gibbs's faces.

"Where did you take her?" Gibbs asked. The cabbie focused on the picture.

"The Israeli embassy," he said. "Some guy was outside it, and he paid the fare."

The three NCIS agents looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. Oh, crap.

**A/N**: I probably should have warned all of you I'm not very good at the whole casefic thing.

A massive thank you to my beta Anoymous033, for her big red pen.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Five**_

Ziva stood outside Bashan's office in the Israeli embassy. It felt strange to be in the embassy; after all she was no longer an Israeli citizen. She should not be here, she thought. She felt anxious, very anxious at the thought of seeing her mother again. She had not even spoken to her mother in fifteen years and their last discussion had been far from civil; vicious words had spilt from both mother's and daughter's mouths and the vicious venom had stung the both of them.

Ziva knocked on the dark wooden door; Bashan opened it slowly. He offered a polite Shalom, but Ziva was not listening to her sort-of Godfather. Rivka stood behind Bashan. She was thinner and paler than Ziva remembered, and dressed in some sort of black coat which had blood on it; the red bloodstains were slowly turning into the same dark colour as the coat. Rivka looked at Ziva with a soft look on her face.

"Ziva," Rivka whispered. She noted how much her daughter had changed; her hair was tamed, and she was wearing jeans instead of the combat pants she practically lived in as a teenager. Ziva looked up at her mother; the fights from many years beforehand were forgotten. She saw her mother's sad face and wanted to make it all better, just like Rivka had whenever Ziva had been sick.

"Riv-" Ziva said using her mother's first name; she then realized how cold it sounded to the woman who had carried her and raised her as best she could in an almost impossible situation. "Ima," she finally uttered using the Hebrew word for 'mother'. Rivka wrapped her arms around her daughter. The pair of them stood for a second in each other's embrace, offering silent apologies for trivial past wrongs that seemed so silly all those years afterwards. Rivka stroked Ziva's soft face, and a tear pricked one of her chocolate-coloured eyes. Ziva bit her lip, restraining tears that wanted to fall.

Ziva looked at her mother; her dark hair had silver streaks in it now. Rivka had more worry lines and there was a broken look in her eyes. A look that almost broke Ziva's already fractured heart. Ziva had seen a similar haunted look in her father's eyes and in Gibbs's eyes – the look of parent who had lost a child. Ziva felt guilty for not being there when Tali had died, for as hard as her little sister's death had been for her, it must have been a hundred times harder for Rivka. No parent should ever have to bury a child, but Rivka had. Rivka's warm embrace made Ziva remember the few happy childhood memories she had. Teenage angst was forgotten; so was the terrible fight.

Rivka looked at her last living child; she was not the same girl that had angrily slammed the front door when she left for Mossad. She looked grown up and she was emotionally softer. Rivka could tell that the walls she put up to guard herself from getting hurt had now been conquered a few times, and even included a door to her soul.

"Bashan mentioned that you needed clothes," Ziva said, as she handed Rivka the go-bag from the trunk of her red mini-cooper. Rivka looked at the khaki backpack with suspicion.

"What shade of khaki are these combat pants?" Rivka asked in a playful tone.

Ziva remembered many of the arguments mother and daughter had had over Ziva's choice of clothing. Rivka detested combat pants and often tried to force Ziva to wear skirts. Every time Rivka went shopping, she returned with a new skirt for Ziva; another skirt that would be worn once or twice when Rivka was around, but discarded for Ziva's lone pair of combat pants when Rivka went out.

"I am not sure," Ziva said with a smirk on her face, "These days they come in all sorts of shades; olive, chocolate, grey, army camo, black and even pink," Rivka screwed up her face at the thought of pink combat pants. "But none of those are in my bag," Ziva said.

"Oh," Rivka said as she looked into the bag. She found a pair of smart black pants with a warm-coloured sweater.

Ziva walked out of the door, leaving Rivka to change. Bashan handed Ziva a cup of tea.

"Thank you for coming," Bashan whispered. Ziva offered a fake smile in response. He could sense her confusion.

"Are you sure she did not do it?" Ziva asked.

She regretted the words the second the sentence came out of her mouth; the regret only intensified when she saw Bashan's facial features change. He seemed perturbed at the very thought.

"I have never been surer in my entire life," Bashan said as he finished his own tea. "How can you even suggest such a thing?"

Ziva's face changed, and Bashan suddenly realized why she could. Ari had broken her trust, and Eli had broken her trust; Ziva had been waiting for the same thing to happen with her mother.

Ziva also came to a realization – Bashan loved her mother. She knew Bashan had been fond of Rivka, and she knew the pair had spent much of her parents' marriage in an extramarital affair, but she had never equated it to love. She watched as Bashan swore black and blue that Rivka was incapable of the murder.

"You love my mother," Ziva said with a surprised expression.

"I have always loved your mother," Bashan said in response.

"Not _love loved_," Ziva said, emphasizing the middle word to make her point. Bashan did not respond.

Rivka opened the door, dressed in black pants and a grape sweater, before the conversation could go any further.

"You look nice," Bashan said, eyeing up his former lover.

"I look like sheep dressed as lamb," Rivka said; neither Bashan nor Ziva corrected the idiom for they believed it to be correct. Bashan shook his head. He and Ziva walked into the office.

"Bashan told me you were sleeping with an admiral," Ziva said as the three of them each sat in different places in the office: Bashan sat behind his desk, Rivka sat on the couch, and Ziva leaned on the edge of Bashan's desk. Ziva held her white teacup in her hand even though the cup had long ago been emptied.

"His name is," Rivka paused, remembering he was dead. "Was Leo," she said. "We went sailing together."

"And you woke up on his boat, to find him dead?" Ziva asked. Rivka nodded.

"I know what it looks like, Ziva," Rivka said, "But I swear on Tali's grave I did not kill him."

Ziva rubbed her hands together the mention of her late sister made her feel very sad, but Rivka's sentence made her sure her mother had not killed Admiral Black. Otherwise Rivka would not have sworn on Tali's grave like that.

"Did he mention any enemies, or former lovers that might have a reason to kill him?" Ziva asked. Rivka looked at Bashan, who gave her a nod.

"He is married," Rivka said.

Ziva took a deep breath; this was bad, she thought. Most people would assume Rivka had killed him. She felt her phone vibrate again; she rejected the fourth call from Gibbs.

**XXX**

The team stood in the orange-walled squad room; the taxi driver had been let go on the condition that he was free to go provided he did not leave the country or the state. Tony had also suggested the taxi driver get some sleep after he and Gibbs had paid the ridiculously high taxi fare.

Gibbs sipped his coffee.

"Ok," DiNozzo said, pulling up a dossier on the victim and reporting on what he had found, "Leo Black, born in 1947 in North Carolina; his father served in World War Two. His brother died in Vietnam. He married May Jones, a teacher, in 1969, the summer after he graduated college. They had a child in 1979, but he died a few hours after birth. His wife still lives in Chesapeake Bay; she's on her way in." DiNozzo paused. "I bet it was the wife."

"It's never the wife," McGee said not looking up from the computer.

"It's always the wife," Tony said. Gibbs head slapped him. He yelped. Gibbs watched as DiNozzo pulled up a second dossier on Rivka David. DiNozzo paused.

"Go on DiNozzo," Gibbs said, encouraging his younger teammate.

"This one took a bit of digging, Boss," DiNozzo said, "I had to call an old friend who owed me a favour." Technically the friend was Ziva's but he had gotten the dossier nonetheless. He looked at the dossier for a second time, feeling guilty for reading so much information related to Ziva. "Rivka Yaakov was born in Soviet Russia in parents were Holocaust survivors; she had an older sister Nettie born in 1945, and a younger brother Max born in 1952. Max died of a genetic disease in 1960, and Rivka's parents both died not long after her sister Nettie's eighteenth birthday. She joined the Russian ballet, and was then recruited to the prestigious European ballet company; she was the only Jew ever to get into the company. Her sister became a nurse and immigrated to Israel in 1972, along with thousands of other Jews; she married twice and never had a living child. Nettie died in October 2008 from some kind of cancer." DiNozzo paused; he remembered Ziva's vacation to Israel that year, and he suddenly wondered if it was to say goodbye to her beloved Aunt rather than to screw Michael Rivkin.

"According to Interpol, it is believed she met Eli David that same year when he was running an operation to kill the Black September operatives, after the massacre of eleven Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. Rivka retired from ballet in April married Eli that same month when she was already a few months pregnant, and the marriage guaranteed her Israeli citizenship. She had Ziva in November the same year." Tony took a breath and a sip of coffee. "Tali David was born in February 1980, four years and four months after Ziva. Rivka worked as an at-home piano teacher when she had young children, but eventually worked in an office and as a ballet teacher. She separated from Eli in August 1991 and took her children to Haifa. They did not legally divorce until Tali was killed by a bus bomb in November 1996. She left Israel, and began charity work in her late daughter's name. She had her fair share of male acquaintances. She went MIA on the charity scene in June 2009."

"When Ziva was in Somalia," Gibbs said, chucking his coffee cup into the bin.

"In October 2009 she went to a drug rehab facility in Zurich for narcotics addiction, mostly pain pills and sleeping pills," Tony said. "She is apparently clean," he added; Gibbs caught the younger man's gaze into the distance. "But sometimes addicts fall off the wagon."

Tony remembered his mother's bedroom; the four poster bed, the feather boas on the bed posts. The dressing table covered with pretty bottles and pill boxes.

"McGee," Gibbs said, turning to the younger man.

McGee had been told to hack into the Israeli embassy's security cameras because they needed evidence before they stormed the Israeli embassy looking for a woman who may or may not have murdered an admiral in the United States Navy.

"Boss," the younger man said with a nervous look on his face, as the red ACCESS DENIED sign appeared for the second time in the past five minutes. "Sorry Boss," McGee said, typing again and trying to find another way in.

"Don't apologize it's a sign of weakness," Gibbs barked.

An idea crossed his mind. Surely Mossad would help them out; Eli probably disliked his ex-wife much more than Gibbs disliked his three. After all, Rivka had taken Eli's children from him. Gibbs rushed up the stairs towards Vance's office.

**XXX**

Vance stood in his office leaning on the table while his cane rested on the chair; Gibbs was in front of him. He listened to the Gibbs's story. He looked at his watch; he was supposed to be in a meeting with the Secretary of the Navy. Gibbs had stopped him just as he was walking out the door. He was going to be very late and the Secretary of the Navy was going to kill him.

"So Agent David is not responding to your calls and her mother may possibly have killed an admiral from the US Navy," Vance said, almost not believing the words that came out of his own mouth.

"We know Rivka is at the Israeli embassy," Gibbs said.

"Gibbs, you can't go storming into the Israeli embassy," Vance said. "Not without evidence."

"Mossad probably has security tapes at the embassy," Gibbs said. "And Eli David owes us a favour or two." Vance shook his head and picked up his phone, calling Eli David's direct line.

"Hello my friend, how are your children?" Eli's voice said a second after Vance dialled the number, the younger of the two men could not help but think of the last time they had spoken, in the hospital as Eli was leaving, Vance found his spare hand touching the still tender bit of skin where his scar was. Vance answered and began the customary small talk before explaining the situation.

**A/N: **As petuniatc pointed out I messed up the geography in the last chapter, I'm really sorry. Yes Eli makes an appearance in the next chapter. Thank you all for your lovely reviews/lj comments.

Anonymous033 thank you for you big bad red pen.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six**_

Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee stood in MTAC. The screen came up; Malachi Ben-Gidon and Liat Tuvia stood before them.

"The director got your request," Liat said in a robotic voice.

Another woman walked into the room; she had dark hair, olive features, and rather large breasts. She did not hide them either; she wore a tight singlet top with black and white stripes and a short black skirt that exposed a rather attractive set of legs.

"This is Rachel Hofi," Malachi said, looking at Rachel for a second and admiring her features. "She deals with all that tech stuff," the Israeli could tell what DiNozzo was thinking – it was something along the lines of _why can't our tech guys be that hot_. Eli David walked into the room a few seconds later. Rachel began rolling the security tapes.

"Well at 0400 we have Bashan doing his daily walk around the compound; there Bashan is telling off the Ambassador's son." Rachel said. McGee found himself staring at the Mossad tech girl; he admired her beauty, and briefly entertained the idea of doing something very DiNozzo-ish and calling Rachel to talk – a talk that would start with gigabytes and RAM and end with dirty talk and a plane ticket being bought. Liat's voice brought him back into reality

"Comes with the territory of being the child of an ambassador," Liat said; a smile crossed her face as she remembered many officers much like Bashan who had allowed her to get away with many things that her parents, now living in Eilat, still had no idea about.

"Ms Yaakov arrived at the Israeli embassy at 0410 this morning, and was met by Officer Michael Bashan; Ziva arrived at 0550." Rachel said, showing the American men the camera footage, Rachel who had met Ziva a couple of times, during the summer of 2008, begun to worry about the trouble Ziva had landed herself in. They watched as Ziva's red mini cooper sped through the open gate of the Israeli embassy.

"Well that's Ziva's driving," Malachi said, gulping as he remembered many instances when he had been stuck in the passenger seat when Ziva had been driving.

"Rivka's driving is far worse," Eli said with a smirk as he remembered his former wife happy memories quickly turned into anger and bitterness at the thought of the woman who had taken his children from him, and cheated on him for the majority of their marriage. "You have your evidence," Eli said coldly hiding his anger.

"You could probably give us much more," Tony uttered. "You were keeping tabs on Ziva; probably Rivka too."

"I do not," Eli said in an unconvincing tone, he angrily stood up and walked out slamming the door.

The conversation ended abruptly. Gibbs felt a tiny bout of sympathy for the Israeli man; he obviously wished things had not ended up how they had. Gibbs wondered briefly if he and Eli had the same dreams, ones where their families were still with them.

**XXX**

Donald 'Ducky' Mallard looked down at Admiral Leo Black. He cut into the man's chest. He had performed many autopsies on many different people of different ages, sex, ethnicities, rank, and class; yet he still felt a tinge of sadness at seeing the horrible way the man before him had died.

"Such a sad end for an Admiral," Ducky said.

"Do you think Ziva's mom did it?" Palmer asked. Ducky looked up at his younger colleague; he rather hoped Rivka Yaakov had not done it, as the last thing Ziva needed was another bad apple in her family.

"I once saw the European Ballet Company perform in Rome," Ducky said. Palmer smiled as the good doctor began another one of his rambling tales. "It was 1972; they were performing Swan Lake. I had fallen for one of the dancers. Her name was Marie-Jo and she was French. She was so beautiful, but as is always the case with ballet dancers, a little bit…" Ducky paused, remembering a dark-haired beauty with piercing green eyes. He remembered her bones sticking out of her skin in a rather sickly and unhealthily manner.

"Doctor," Palmer said, prompting the elder man.

"Well," Ducky said, "Marie-Jo was a little bit mad; I suppose it is always the case with ballet dancers." Ducky said. "It must be the perfectionism."

_Swish_

Gibbs walked into the autopsy room, a coffee cup in hand and without announcing himself.

"Ah Jethro," Ducky said as he turned to face his friend.

"How'd ya know it was me Duck," Gibbs asked as a brief smirk crossed his face.

"I have known you for twenty years Jethro," Ducky said, "I know your habits. Speaking of which, our dead Admiral had a cigar habit," Ducky said as he examined the man's lungs, "Which would have eventually killed him."

"What actually killed him, Duck?" Gibbs said.

"That was a gun shot," Ducky said, "He was shot three times; only one was fatal."

"Like if he was shot by an amateur," Gibbs said quietly; Rivka Yaakov suddenly looked more and more like a possibility.

**XXX**

Abby Scutio stood in front of her computer; she looked behind her, where there were stacks of evidence for her to sift through. Gibbs had given her fingerprints to match. Abby had also heard that Ziva had not turned up to the crime scene, and apparently Ziva's mother, whom Ziva had not had contact with since she was twenty, was connected to the crime, and was possibly even the killer.

She pulled the evidence out of the plastic boxes and felt rather bad for going through Ziva's mother's stuff. A photo of two girls with pigtails fell into Abby's hands.

"Ziva was cute as a kid," Abby said as McGee walked into the lab with a Caf-Pow! in hand. "And her sister was even cuter," Abby said as she looked at the photograph of the two olive-skinned girls with brown hair.

"She doesn't talk about them much," McGee said as he looked at the photograph with a sad look; he seldom heard Ziva talk about her mother and/or her little sister Tali.

"Yeah," Abby said. Gibbs walked in carrying the bullets.

"Presents from Ducky," Gibbs said.

"Ooh goodie," Abby cried, jumping up and down. The computer beeped. She looked up at the computer and her positive mood disappeared. "Oh," she said sadly. Gibbs and McGee both looked at the black-clad woman.

"The prints match," McGee said as the MATCHED notification appeared before him; it looked more and more like Rivka Yaakov had done it.

"I already ran it twice," Abby said quietly.

"It's ok Abs," Gibbs said, sensing the woman's anger at forensics that could send Ziva's mother to jail.

**XXX**

DiNozzo sat in the orange-walled conference room. He was opposite a slim woman in her early sixties; she hadonce had blonde hair but it was now grey. The woman wiped tears from her eyes.

"Mrs Black," Tony uttered softly. May Black looked up at Tony. "Did your husband have any enemies?" Tony asked. She looked down, at the desk.

"No," she said. "He honestly did not. Sure, people did not like him because he was the boss, but he did not go about making people hate him."

"Mistresses," Tony finally said. May coughed. She bit her lip.

"He told me he had stopped with that," May said softly as tears fell from her eyes. "We both cheated a couple of times especially after we lost the baby; it was meaningless. We got marriage counselling and we both agreed to stop, but he did not stop did he, he was cheating on me?"

Tony shook his head; he remembered his mother sobbing after one of his father's affairs had become known. He had always wondered why his mother never left Senior. Listening to May Black made him ask such unanswerable questions again.

"Sorry ma'am," Tony said quietly, offering his condolences.

"What's her name?" May asked as she pushed her hair out of her face.

"Ma'am I can't tell you that," Tony said, _especially as it is my partner's mother, _he thought.

**XXX**

Rivka had fallen asleep curled up on Bashan's leather couch; Ziva draped a blanket over her mother's sleeping form. She looked around Bashan's office, while Bashan made phone calls.

"How can she sleep?" Ziva asked as Bashan put his phone on his shoulder.

"To escape," Bashan said; they both knew Rivka could not function if she did not get her eight hours' sleep. They both also knew that Rivka was one to take a pill and go to sleep to escape the world around her.

_Rivka stood on a street in Haifa; the smell of sea salt entered her nostrils and she looked across the road to the cobalt-coloured ocean. The sun was shining despite it being a winter month. Her sixteen-year-old younger daughter Tali was behind her dressed in a slogan t-shirt which said 'Peace Now'. Rivka looked at Tali, with her mop of curly hair._

"_I'll pay for a taxi," Rivka said as Tali showed her a leaflet about the peace rally._

"_I will take the bus with my friends," Tali told her mother, "but thank you, ima." Tali gave her mother a kiss on her cheek._

"_I do not want to lose you too," Rivka whispered as she hugged Tali._

"_But ima you haven't lost Ziva," Tali told her mother; both their thoughts turned to Ziva who was doing God knows what with God knows whom God knows where as a Mossad officer._

"_Be careful," Rivka whispered. The bus pulled up to stop. Tali got on and stood on the step; she gave her mother a massive goodbye wave. Rivka waved back. The bus doors closed._

_The bus reached the end of the tree-lined street before it erupted into a fiery orange ball. The people in street stopped and looked around, scared and horrified. Their paradise had been destroyed._

"_Tali!" Rivka screamed as she ran to the bus. The smell of burning flesh eclipsed the smell of sea salt; screams echoed around Rivka. She fell to ground and wailed._

"Tali!" Rivka screamed as she woke up; she found herself on Bashan's couch, Ziva and Bashan looking at her. Ziva had a pained look on her face. Rivka wiped away a tear.

Bashan's phone rang.

"Ok," he said into the receiver, "Ayelet, halt them at the reception desk, I will be right out." Ziva watched as Bashan hung up the phone and got up from his desk rather hastily.

"What is wrong?" Ziva asked.

"NCIS is here, Agents Gibbs, and DiNozzo," Bashan reported. "Stay here," he ordered both women. Bashan rushed out. Ziva turned to Rivka.

"Stay here," she repeated before following Bashan. Rivka followed her daughter and former lover instead.

**XXX**

Gibbs and DiNozzo stood in the foyer of the Israeli embassy; it was nicely decorated with European and Middle Eastern touches. There was a plaque in memory of Holocaust survivors, underneath plaques in memory of fallen soldiers and victims of terrorist attacks. There were two Israeli flags in the foyer, and a wooden Star of David behind the receptionist, reminding everyone it was the Israeli embassy. The receptionist was flirting with an olive-clad teenage solider whilst also keeping an eye on Gibbs and DiNozzo.

"It's nothing like the one in Munich," DiNozzo said, referencing the Mossad movie with Eric Bana that he and Ziva had watched a few weeks beforehand, and that had caused Ziva to begin listing the inconsistencies and the fact that the Abner character never existed.

"Did you call Officer Bashan?" Gibbs asked the pretty receptionist again; she uttered what they assumed was a curse word in Hebrew. Though America and Israel were allies the Israeli embassy was rather annoyed at having to deal with NCIS on a pleasant Wednesday morning, especially as their presence had not been anticipated.

"Yes I did," Ayelet replied; she looked down the hallway. She had not been in the Embassy when Bashan had brought in a woman rumoured to be the Director of Mossad Eli David's ex-wife, covered in someone else's blood. Ayelet was a naturally nosy person and was desperate to know what was going on; her suspicion had only been heightened when Ziva David, a woman Ayelet had met only twice, rushed into the embassy long before dawn. "He is old, give him a chance to get out of his office," she muttered, turning back to the NCIS agents and the soldier who was nearly a decade younger than her. Bashan emerged from the hallway but out of Ayelet's line of sight.

"I will pretend I did not hear that Miss Sharon," Bashan said to the brown-haired woman as he turned to greet Gibbs and DiNozzo."What can I do for you two this morning?" Bashan asked in a diplomatic tone.

"I think you know that," Tony said, "We have evidence that links Rivka David to our murder, and you by law have to produce her now."

"It is Yaakov; she will probably kill you if you called her David," Ziva said, from behind Bashan. The two men looked up at her.

"You gots some 'splainin' to do," Tony said to Ziva.

**A/N**: Thank you beta Anoymous033.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter Seven**_

"You gots some 'splainin' to do," echoed in Ziva's head; she knew she did have some explaining to do, and judging by Gibbs cold stare, some bridges to mend.

"Yes," she said, stepping forward. Gibbs looked at Ziva, noticing she was in the previous day's clothes. Rivka walked out from behind Bashan. She could see how disappointed Gibbs was in her, at her actions. "My mother did not kill Admiral Black," Ziva said. "I am sure of that."

Gibbs looked at Rivka; he was not surprised she had been caught in Eli's vicious web of lies and betrayal, as she was even in her early sixties remarkably attractive. Gibbs also saw a strength in her, a strength that had allowed Rivka to escape Eli's clutches just as Ziva had eventually. Gibbs admired Rivka's dark hair and silver streaks. He looked up at her eyes and saw that stain of permanent pain, the emotional agony of losing a child. A pain Gibbs recognized, as he suffered the same pain.

"I did not," Rivka finally said shakily; Bashan looked at the two women, slightly amused at the mother-daughter pair's inability to follow his orders. "I did not intend to get my daughter into so much trouble either."

"Ima," Ziva said, quietly trying to offer her comfort. Gibbs nodded to Ziva and walked to the other end of the foyer, out of earshot of the others. Ziva silently followed.

"Why?" Gibbs asked quietly as they stood in front of the memorial plaques. Gibbs noticed the one for victims of terrorist attacks had names engraved in it in both Latinized letters and Hebrew ones; one of those names was Tali David. Ziva looked up at him rather surprised at his question; _surely he would understand_, she thought "She is my mother Gibbs; would you not do the same for Jackson?" Ziva asked. Gibbs rather resented the comparison of Rivka and Jackson, but Ziva was right – Gibbs would do the same for Jackson. "She is my family; she is the only good member of my family still alive." Ziva added. "Is it so wrong for me to believe she is still good?"

Gibbs felt a pang of sympathy for his probationary agent; her family included her half-brother, a terrorist with Daddy issues who had died at Ziva's hands, and her father, a man who had forsaken his daughter's life, leaving her to die in the hands of sociopathic terrorists to maintain his political position. He was not surprised she had lost some of her objectivity in trying to believe her mother to still be good. Gibbs vowed that if Rivka Yaakov joined Eli and Ari in the list of bad members of Ziva's family, he would be there to help her recover from the betrayal. He honestly and whole-heartedly hoped Rivka was as innocent as Ziva believed.

"I am sorry," Ziva uttered. Gibbs looked at her. Ziva waited to hear the repetition of his infamous rule. Gibbs said nothing. "Don't apologize it's a sign of weakness," Ziva said in her best Gibbs voice.

"Not between friends," Gibbs said; he looked across the room to see Rivka staring directly at them with a sad look in her eyes. Gibbs knew mother and daughter had a difficult relationship due to Ziva blaming Rivka for her parents' divorce, their relationship only deteriorated further when Ziva joined mossad and her sister Tali died. "Or between family," he uttered. Ziva nodded. Gibbs's hand then lightly glided over Ziva's forehead. She smiled. "That's for impersonating me."

"I need to work on the voice," Ziva said.

"I have to take her into custody Ziver," Gibbs said softly, "All the evidence points to her." Ziva nodded.

"I know," she whispered as they walked towards Bashan, Rivka, and Tony.

Rivka saw the silver handcuffs drop from Gibbs's hands. She turned around. Tony began reading her the Miranda rights. She was not listening. She could hear Bashan protesting and muttering something about a lawyer. The cold metal shocked her skin. She saw Ziva with glassy eyes; despite the fact Ziva was an adult, in that precise moment she looked like the sad teenager who had realized her parents were breaking up.

Guilt flooded Rivka like the blue sea on golden sandy shore at high tide. Rivka saw what she had caused. Bashan should be working but he was helping her. Ziva was going to get into trouble at NCIS for aiding her.

"Sorry," Ziva finally whispered. Rivka looked up at her daughter.

"It is I who should be sorry," Rivka finally uttered. "I am."

**XXX**

Bashan and Tony stood on the other side of the glass; they watched as Rivka paced up and down in Interrogation, and Tony could not help but draw comparisons between mother and daughter – they both reacted to stressful situations by moving around.

"Is she in Ziva's clothes?" Tony asked, recognizing the grape sweater; a sweater he rather liked on Ziva, as it exaggerated her rather petite bosom; and looked nice on her olive skin. The dark colour washed out Rivka's far paler features.

"I believe so," Bashan said. "Ziva brought her go-bag in; she and Rivka had a brief discussion about combat pants," Bashan said with a smile. "Rivka rather dislikes them."

"Ziva mentioned that once, when we were talking about our mothers," Tony said. He remembered the conversation the previous Mother's Day; Tony had picked up a drunk Abby and Ziva who were bitching about the evils their mothers had inflicted, and were both pining to call them. Once Abby had been dropped off at her own apartment to sober up, Ziva and Tony had swapped Mother stories over non-alcoholic drinks and pizza.

"She mentioned you once too," Tony said. Bashan looked at Tony a tad surprised; Ziva had always been loyal to Eli and never seemed to like Bashan much. "She said you were like the Jewish equivalent of a Godfather."

"I loved Eli's children like my own," Bashan replied. "I still do" He still lit the yahrzeit candle on the anniversary of Tali's death, he still felt guilty for how Ari had turned out, and he still sent Ziva a birthday card every year with a meaningful gift.

"You send her the gift in the purple paper every year," Tony said, remembering the many birthday cards and gifts that arrived each year on Ziva's birthday. Most were alcoholic or confectionary, and people she called old friends or contacts. If Eli sent her a gift, it would be a few days late and consist of something generic like money. There was always a purple-wrapped gift in the pile given to Ziva on the day though, one she would put in her bag and open later.

"And you are the one who claimed to be her husband, when her Aunt needed break-up advice," Bashan said with a smirk. "I had to field phone calls all day explaining it was an American idea of a joke."

"That was a misunderstanding," Tony uttered. "And to be fair, you gave Nettie my Uncle's address and she sent a wedding announcement; I was fielding calls from my Aunt all weekend. One of my cousins even sent me wedding china."

Bashan chuckled. "Agent DiNozzo, you should know by now you do not refuse women on that side of Ziva's family," he said, remembering the many requests he had received from Rivka, Nettie, and Ziva over the years. Requests that had ranged from Ziva asking him to make up an excuse for her lack of attendance at an embassy dinner party to Rivka asking him to erase a traffic violation, though Rivka had rewarded him for fulfilling her request. Tony nodded; he knew after five years of partnership, not to refuse Ziva. He had taken responsibility for traffic accidents in an NCIS vehicle for her many a time. When her requests were fulfilled, he too had been rewarded, usually with some of her delicious home cooking.

**XXX**

Rivka looked at Gibbs, who was sitting on the other side of the silver table. He sat completely silent.

"The silent approach does not work with me," Rivka said. "I knew Eli for many years; I am immune to that approach," Rivka spat out her ex-husband's name rather bitterly. Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"It seems to be working," Gibbs said.

"Fine," she said quietly, admitting defeat. She looked at Gibbs; she saw Gibbs's piercing blue eyes.

"We have something in common," Rivka whispered as she looked at Gibbs.

"Yeah, we both care for your daughter," Gibbs said; he was worried about Ziva, having seen what Eli's return did to her. He hoped Ziva's mother's return would cause less hurt for a woman he loved as if she were his daughter .

"Well that too," Rivka said softly, "But I see the sad look in your eyes; you lost a child, didn't you?" Rivka whispered as memories of Tali flooded her brain.

"Yes," Gibbs said, remembering Kelly, "But we're not talking about that." Rivka looked up at him.

"I know," she replied, "I know that all the evidence points to me, but I did not do it!" She cried desperately, protesting her innocence.

"Let's go through last night," Gibbs said.

"We docked in some harbour, he did not really tell me where but I did not care, we talked, we had a bit to drink and he took his Viagra and well," Rivka paused as the man opposite her showed signs of discomfort at discussions of sexual nature. "Anyway, I fell asleep rather disappointed; I think I drank too much."

"You fell off the wagon," Gibbs said. Rivka looked up at him with a surprised look; she had hoped her daughter's colleagues had not found out about her dark side, her destructive coping mechanism, and her summer spent grieving for Ziva. It seemed they had.

"I went to rehab for pills, Agent Gibbs, not alcohol. That is the only vice I still have," Rivka said quietly. Gibbs wondered how Ziva was not an alcoholic or worse, as her father had a fondness for marijuana and hashish. Eli had also all but admitted to being an alcoholic when he informed Gibbs alcohol was no longer one of his vices. Rivka, it seemed, was no better; prescription pills as her drug of choice was more legal but just as dangerous when she abused them. Gibbs had a new admiration for his probationary agent and her strength; she had been through so much trauma and had not clung to even one of her parents' vices.

"After Ziva," Gibbs paused, not really sure how to word it what had happened in Africa, especially as he had no idea how much Rivka knew about what had happened to Ziva. And in all honesty Gibbs was not entirely sure he knew exactly what had happened to Ziva out there either– she certainly was not one for talking.

"After Eli sent me a letter saying she was dead," Rivka paused, "I went off the…" Rivka paused again, but moved her hands and opened her mouth, trying to say something – Ziva often did a similar thing when she was trying to get an idiom right, "How do you say, I jumped into the pool that was too deep."

"You jumped in the deep end," Gibbs said. Rivka nodded.

"I wondered if I was doing all that charity stuff to repent for Ziva's sins; to keep her alive. All of it seemed so futile if she was dead." Rivka paused. "And so I found solace in little pills. When I found out Ziva was alive I realized how stubborn I had been and how silly my and Ziva's lack of a relationship was. So I tried to get clean."

"That took over a year?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "It took a couple of attempts; it's been six months since I last took Vicodin or a sleep aid." Gibbs nodded; he felt sympathy for the woman. She had lost so much and had nearly lost her battle with drugs. "I decided I had to be a better person before I tried to find Ziva again." Gibbs nodded again. He understood.

"So," Gibbs said, getting back on topic. "What happened when you woke up?" Rivka's face fell; she looked at the silver table.

"I woke up; my head hurt and it was dark. I looked for Leo," Rivka paused, trying to compose herself. The memory of a few hours before flooded her mind; the memory she still hoped to wake up from and believe it to be a dream, but it was not, and it was her reality. "I found him," Rivka began to shake; Gibbs offered his hand as comfort. "I am sick of losing people," she whispered. Gibbs got up and walked out.

Rivka sat alone in the empty room; a long loud scream echoed from her mouth as she finally let herself grieve. She banged her hands on the metal table and sobbed loudly. She cried out. She let her anger and grief finally escape her. She kicked the wall, and finally fell against the wall. She buried her head in her knees, her silver-streaked curls falling over her head.

Ziva let herself into the grey-walled room; she had changed from the previous day's clothes into the second set of spare clothes she kept at her desk – a pair of combat pants and smart blue cardigan over a white singlet. Ziva sat next to her mother. Rivka reached out for her daughter. Ziva gave her mother her olive hand as comfort. They sat in silence, rivers of silent tears falling down Rivka's tired face.

"It will be all right," Ziva said even though she was not really sure.

A/N: Sorry this is later than expected, my family are having to ration out the internet until Feb 4th because we used to much.

Anonymous033 thank you.

And because I keep forgetting it: I DO NOT OWN A THING.


	8. Chapter 8

Anoymous033 - Thank you agian. And I don't own this. *sobs*

_**Chapter Eight**_

Ziva and Rivka leant on the hard grey wall of Interrogation Room One. Ziva had offered her hand to her mother as comfort. Rivka had taken it. They now sat in an uncomfortable silence. Both wanted to break the silence, but neither knew how.

Rivka looked at Ziva; she remembered the little baby wrapped in pink that had been placed in her arms after eighteen hours of painful labour. She remembered sitting alone in a hospital room after Eli had been sent away (he had only slipped in during the last half hour of the birth, and received a lot of abuse from Rivka) not knowing what to do with the tiny foreign creature.

Rivka felt an almost identical feeling now as she looked at her grown-up daughter. Ziva was so different in comparison to the wild and confused twenty-year-old that had stormed out of her apartment and become a trained Mossad officer. Ziva now had friends she considered family and a life that was not just favours, safe houses, and a different identity in a different city every night. She now had citizenship of a foreign country and worked for a federal agency Rivka had not known existed until she ended up being investigated by it. Ziva no longer lived in combat pants and a black singlet; she instead looked smart in dress pants and coloured sweaters.

"Why did you not come to Tali's funeral?" Rivka finally asked, shattering the silence; she felt Ziva let go of her hand. Tension filled the small room.

Ziva turned to face her mother; she began to consider her answer. She had wanted to go, but she had not gone. She had run off to Edinburgh and gotten hideously drunk with Ari and his friends; ended up trying a variety of drugs and eventually sleeping with Ari's roommate – an act she was still not a hundred per cent sure Ari had forgiven her for. She looked at Rivka, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. Ziva found herself surprisingly upset at the thought of hurting her mother. She decided not to lie and to give her mother the honest answer she deserved.

"I did not want to believe it," Ziva said softly, "I did not want to believe Tali was dead, she was too good to die in such a violent way." Ziva paused. "Nor did I want to upset you; I know you loved Tali." She paused again. "I know you honestly thought it would be you and Tali burying me one day, not us burying Tali. I did not want to hurt you more than I already had."

"Ziva," Rivka whispered; she had been more hurt by Ziva's absence, than she would have been by Ziva's presence. She had even contemplated repairing her relationship with Ziva at Tali's funeral, because as much as Ziva's career choice hurt Rivka, she could not bear to lose a second daughter. Ziva's absence had ended up meaning Rivka had indeed lost both her daughters.

"I should have been there," Ziva said quietly. "I regretted not being there."

"You are not the same as when you left," Rivka whispered, noticing the change in her daughter; Ziva never talked about herself, her feelings, or her regrets. "You have changed. What happened?" Rivka asked, surprised at the maturity and wise soul of a woman who had spent almost half her life killing in the name of Israel. Eli had only grown childish and jaded as his time in Mossad had worn on.

"I have had a lot of time to think," Ziva said without consideration of the words coming from her mouth.

Rivka was confused at her daughter's statement; Mossad officers seldom had time to think – they were always on the go. Rivka had often wondered if that was their coping mechanism; if they kept going so they could not reflect back on their sins. If they kept moving on, thenthey could not remember what they had done. The guilt could not touch them. Of course, the guilt would eventually catch up with them, and to make the pain stop hurting, a Mossad officer would quickly find themselves an alcoholic, a drug user or a potential sex addict. Rivka had often woken up with cold sweats imagining Ziva with the dark eyes of an alcoholic or a drug abuser, or hiding her heart in favour of sex just so she could feel something other than pain and guilt again.

"What?" Rivka said softly; she looked at her daughter. There were no signs of any injuries that would have forced Ziva to lie in a bed or sit idle for many months. Rivka saw her eyes trying to hide emotional scars but saw no sign of physical scars.

"I was," Ziva paused; she wondered for a second if she should tell her mother about Somalia – Rivka could after all spitefully declare that Ziva deserved what she got for joining Mossad. Even if she did not believe that Somalia was what Ziva deserved, she would probably still be very emotionally distressed at the thought of what Ziva had been through. Ziva bit the bullet and decided to tell Rivka whilst preparing for either reaction. "I was held hostage in Somalia for three months," Ziva said very quickly. "By a sociopathic terrorist and his friends, who had a pack-a-day smoking habit and a fondness for caffeinated soda," she uttered, speaking faster than Abby on a Caf-Pow! buzz.

Rivka's mouth dropped open; she was speechless. Despite the sheer speed of the words escaping Ziva's mouth, Rivka had heard every single one of them. Her heart broke. She wanted to scream and cry for what the sociopathic terrorist had done to her daughter. She, however, forced herself to remain strong for Ziva's sake.

Scenarios and ideas ran through her head. Had her daughter been raped, she wondered. After all, Rivka knew enough about terrorism and its perpetrators to know that it was a likely possibility; Ziva was Mossad, female, and Jewish. Other thoughts occupied Rivka's head too: What had they done to her? Had they scared her? What had they done to her headspace?

"Ima," Ziva cried desperately, "Please say something." Rivka's silence was scaring Ziva.

Rivka was seldom that silent. Ziva could only recall one instance, when she was six and Bashan had turned up at their house claiming Eli was missing-in-action and presumed dead after a Mossad mission had gone wrong. Rivka had sat for over an hour in complete silence contemplating what had happened to her husband, a man she had come to love. That night, as Ziva tried to fall asleep, she had heard her mother sob in the kitchen and break all of the plates. Eli had returned a week later – having been saved by a Russian woman who had hidden him in her barn and nursed him back to basic health with vodka – with a broken arm and the beginning of a drinking problem, and to new set of dinner china.

"Who saved you?" Rivka asked; she needed to focus on the positives.

"NCIS," Ziva said. "Eli left me for dead," Ziva uttered bitterly; despite having somewhat and half-heartedly forgiven Eli for what he had done, she had yet to find the confidence to ask him why he had left her to die. Why he had not clung to the notion that she could still be alive when he had clung to the idea that Ari was innocent until the very end, and had desperately required vengeance when Tali had been killed.

Rivka paused. She looked at her daughter again; her demeanour had suddenly become very nervous. Ziva was anxiously playing with her silver Star of David. Rivka noticed the difference in color; the one given to Ziva on her Bat Mitzvah had been gold, the same color as Rivka's.

"What happened to your necklace?" Rivka asked as she too subconsciously began playing with her own.

"Saleem ripped it off," Ziva said. Rivka flinched at the name of the terrorist; she prayed to a God she no longer fully believed in that this Saleem man was dead or she, despite being a pacifist, would get a gun, find this man, and shoot him herself. "The Hanukah after I came back, Gibbs, Tony, Abby, Ducky, McGee, and Jimmy put their money together and bought me a new one."

"What else did he do? Do you have PTSD?" Rivka asked. Ziva was silent for a second; she remembered what he had done, and she still had scars, both physical and mental. She hesitated in revealing them, especially to her mother. She answered the second question discreetly, revealing answers to them first.

"I cannot stand the smell of cigarettes. It took me months to associate the smell of Caf-Pow! With Abby instead of Saleem, and I still cannot go to the machine and get Abby a Caf-Pow!. I cannot sleep in a room with slat blinds or an open window because I am reminded of the cold desert nights, and the bars in the cell I was kept in." Ziva paused and watched as tears fell down her mother's face. "Ima, I am torturing you," she said quietly.

"No," Rivka replied, blatantly lying. "I need to know."

"No you do not," Ziva replied.

"I do," Rivka whispered. "Please."

"I cannot see a male doctor anymore except for Ducky, but that is different," Ziva said quietly, "I only see female doctors." Rivka put two and two together, and felt sick. Her suspicions had been correct; Ziva had been raped. Rivka watched as Ziva brought her knees to her chest as comfort. Rivka had seen her do it often as a child when the world outside was just too scary to deal with. "I have sat in a rape survivors' support group for over a year; I only started talking last September, and I still have not discussed exactly what happened, just how every so often when I close my eyes all I can see is him on top of me. I can smell him; I can see his fake tooth."

Rivka put her hand on Ziva's. She could feel her daughter shaking; there were tears in her eyes, which were falling rapidly like a waterfall. Rivka suppressed a sob as she thought of the emotional turmoil her daughter had gone through.

"I suppose there is one positive," Ziva whispered in a sarcastic tone; Rivka remained silent. "No grandchildren-who-will-not-have-fathers for you." Rivka wondered if it was because the rape had made her scared of sex. "Actually probably no grandchildren." Rivka did not say anything; she had hoped Ziva would have a family of her own but only wanted her to be happy, and it did not matter how she lived as long as she was happy. "One of the men," Ziva paused. Rivka felt sick at the mention of a second man. "Had a sexually transmitted infection. Anyway it turns out if you leave those untreated or cannot get them treated it seriously impairs your fertility." Rivka filled in the blanks. Her arms wrapped around her daughter. "I supposed it is a punishment for all the things I have done."

The room was silent; Rivka held Ziva as tears fell down both their faces.

"It is probably a good thing you cannot have children," Rivka finally declared. Ziva looked at her mother, shocked at the apparent insensitivity. How could her mother say something so heartless? "It was never diagnosed, but I am sure I had post-partum depression. I believe it is genetic. I am not sure."

Ziva was speechless; she had always known her mother had had some difficulties with motherhood. Ziva could remember many instances where her barren Aunt Nettie had been called in to help Rivka with her and Tali. She had always viewed it as selfish, as Nettie had no living children, having suffered two late-term miscarriages from her two marriages; yet Nettie had always helped despite how much it probably hurt her to see Rivka get what she had never wanted and what Nettie desperately wanted.

As mother and daughter sat in silence, Ziva began to put the pieces together: Rivka had been forced to give up her dancing career and forced to marry Eli before having Ziva. Ziva had taken her career and freedom from her. Ziva felt guilty. She also remembered the various stories she had heard from her Uncle, Aunt, and Grandmother when she had been listening in on their after-dinner conversations. They had discussed how Eli had been absent for most of Rivka's pregnancy and had disappeared off on a mission no less than twenty-four hours after Ziva was born. Ziva's rather two-faced relatives had often discussed how Eli had believed Ziva to be a boy before her birth, and had been rather disappointed that she had been born without a certain part of the anatomy.

"It was only slightly easier when Tali was born, but it was not until after Tali turned three did I actually enjoy parenting," Rivka said honestly. She looked at Ziva, feeling so guilty for revealing her deepest, darkest secrets. "I should have been a better mother."

"No," Ziva finally said. "You did a good job," she whispered. "I am sorry I was not a very good child."

"No," Rivka said, "You were a good child." Both women hugged. Ziva then got up, and uttered something about the case and Gibbs killing her if she did not get on with it.

Rivka sat alone in the interrogation room for the second time, reflecting on what had just happened. She watched Ziva walk away, but this time it was not forever – just for now.

**A/N**: Sorry if I got the post-partum depression stuff wrong, and I did mean to insult anyone who suffered from it nor any of the stuff Ziva suffered from. Reviews?


	9. Chapter 9

Anonymous033 thank you for being an awesome beta, and no I don't own this. Santa gave my BL DVD's instead. Maybe I could get NCIS for my birthday.

_**Chapter Nine**_

Abby danced around to Dishwalla's 'Collide' as she waited for her machines to return their results. She had her fingers crossed that the DNA Ducky found on the body was not just Rivka Yaakov's; Abby honestly did not want to believe Ziva's mother was capable of killing the Admiral.

Abby had long ago accepted that Ziva came from a family where the men were misguided. Ziva's half-brother had killed Kate and tried to kill the other women in Gibbs's life to get to Gibbs, because Gibbs reminded Ari of Eli. It had taken Abby a while to trust Ziva, but once she realized the evil David gene was only carried in the Y chromosome, she and Ziva had become fast friends.

Abby, having met Eli the previous autumn , also disliked him and understood Ari's hate, though she did not see a single similarity between Eli and Gibbs except for their love for Ziva. Abby had suggested Ziva and Eli make some sort of peace, but she had suggested that for Ziva's sake, not for Eli's; and looking back she had probably suggested it because she envied Ziva having a father she could still seek a relationship with. Something Abby did not have the luxury of, a fact that still made her rather sad.

The return of Ziva's mother had prompted Abby to make nice with her own mother. A series of texts had begun between Gloria and Abby Scutio, and a relationship that had been broken since Abby was twenty-two and moved to DC was simply fixed.

Abby's computer beeped right on cue just as Gibbs walked in. He gave her another Caf-Pow!.

"T y," she said. Gibbs looked at her with a confused look on his face. "It's text slang for thank you; my mother sent it to me." Abby said. Gibbs looked up at his forensic tech and favorite member of his team; she and her mother Gloria had not spoken for many years, over much more trivial reasons than Ziva and Rivka. Abby's phone vibrated again; Gibbs could not help but wonder if it was Abby's deaf mother with another text.

"You and Gloria are talking?" Gibbs asked. Abby nodded.

"Well texting," Abby babbled. "Yeah, I think we both decided that life is too short." Gibbs nodded.

"Life is too short for me to keep waiting for those results," Gibbs said as Abby looked at her computer. A smile crossed her face.

"There was another person," Abby said. "Black's body had another person's fingerprints on it. Rivka tested negative for GSR. She didn't do it Gibbs!" Abby shouted happily. She engulfed Gibbs in a hug.

"Can you ID the other fingerprints?" Gibbs asked as Abby read her text.

"I'm running them through every database I have access to," Abby said. Gibbs looked at Abby's screen as it ran through hundreds of possibilities.

Gibbs walked out of the lab, glad Rivka had not killed Admiral Black but still determined to find the killer. As he was leaving the second monitor turned on, and a woman in her sixties with white hair and features similar to Abby's appeared on screen. She was frantically signing; Abby squealed in joy, and began signing too. Gibbs smiled at the Goth and her mother as they began to sign to each other, smiles covering both their faces. He was happy for the both of them.

**XXX**

Rivka Yaakov stood in the elevator with Jimmy Palmer; the young man was very quiet. Rivka was headed to autopsy. She had persuaded Agent McGee to allow her to visit Leo, so she could say her goodbyes. Bashan had offered to come with her too; Rivka had impolitely reminded him she did not need looking after as she was not a child and had not been for a good many years. As she rode the elevator she began contemplating how she was going to apologize to Bashan. Jimmy had politely offered to take her; as it turned out non-NCIS employees could not be left alone in the building.

"So you're really Ziva's mother?" Palmer asked; Rivka was surprised at the question.

"I distinctly remember nine months of morning sickness, constant tiredness, back pain, and having to limit my drinking. I also definitely remember eighteen hours of cursing Eli and telling him that he can rot in hell for what he did to me. I also clearly remember having to get up at ridiculous hours to tend to her, so I am pretty sure," Rivka uttered in a sarcastic tone.

"It's just she never ever talked about you; we all kind of thought you were dead," Jimmy said honestly.

Rivka pretended she was not hurt by Jimmy's remark but she was; she was not surprised, though – Rivka knew her elder daughter well enough to know if Ziva did not want to talk about something, she would not talk about it.

"It is complicated," Rivka said as the elevator stopped. She walked towards the doors of Autopsy.

"Ziva says the same thing," Palmer uttered. Rivka did not reply; she instead walked through the doors to Autopsy.

_Swish_

Ducky heard the doors to Autopsy open. He was on the phone with his girlfriend Jordan Hampton; she had been forced to cancel their dinner date, as Maryland PD had a triple homicide that required Jordan's attention. Ducky explained to Jordan that NCIS' case was also occupying his time.

"Perhaps we could reschedule," Ducky said quietly. Jordan replied with a _yes_ and another apology. "My darling it is all right," Ducky said as the visitor to Autopsy made her presence known.

Rivka stepped forward very slowly, taking a break between each step. She looked at Leo lying on the slab. Her heart ached. She had not intended to love Leo, but had ended up getting pretty close to loving him. She felt guilty for how it had all turned out, even if she had nothing to do with it.

"I have to hang up darling, something came up," Ducky told Jordan as he watched Rivka touch Leo Black's cold pale body. "Goodbye," Ducky said. Jordan hung up as well and then Ducky slowly drifted towards Rivka.

The elder man had to admit he was curious at the thought of Ziva's mother. Ziva was after all so closed-lipped about her mother. Ducky had many questions for the woman who was barely a few years his junior, but Ducky had been raised a gentleman, and he knew not to pry especially as Rivka was in obvious emotional pain. He watched from afar as she warily stood by the body. She looked nervous in the windowless room.

"May I touch him?" she asked in a soft voice. Ducky nodded. He had collected all the evidence; she could do as she wished.

"Yes," Ducky said quietly. Rivka touched the body of a man she had been fond of. It brought no comfort. Sadness flooded her like the blue sea flooded the golden sands of Tel Aviv's beaches.

"I have had too much sadness," Rivka whispered. Ducky looked up at the woman; he felt a wave of pity for had buried one daughter and mourned the other when everyone had been under the illusion Ziva was dead.

"My condolences," Ducky whispered. Rivka smiled for a brief second.

"Thank you," Rivka uttered. 'And thank you for being a good friend to my daughter too."

Ducky looked up at the woman; he wondered how much Rivka knew about Ziva's life.

"She told me some things that happened to her in Africa," Rivka whispered. She looked away, still coming to terms with what had happened herself.

"Oh," escaped Ducky's mouth. He was pleasantly surprised Ziva had revealed so much to a woman she had had no contact with over the last few years, even if it was her mother.

It had taken Ziva months to open up to the team and she had not gone that deep when she had. Even when Ziva had stayed with Ducky for the six weeks between becoming an official NCIS agent and her birthday before she got back on her feet, she had never gone into details about the demons in the nightmares that woke her up. Ducky had never asked her about the tear marks down her face after she had bathed.

Ducky knew she saw people outside NCIS to help her recover; she saw a physical therapist, went to a support group, and saw a psychologist who specialised in POW treatment. Ziva had struck up a friendship with Kaylen Burrows, another rape victim from the previous spring; and even if the pair did not talk about their shared ghost they felt safe with each other.

"I understand you helped her, and for that I thank you," Rivka said; she truly was glad that Ziva had people to help her.

She stared at the body and opened her mouth, trying to talk to it. She noticed Ducky. He had seen her try to talk to the body, and he now moved towards the other end of the room, out of earshot.

"I liked you a lot, Leo," Rivka whispered to the dead body, "But in your death I found my daughter again; it is strange how the world works out, is it not?" She rubbed his hand and offered a death prayer in Hebrew. She let go, and walked off without saying a word to Ducky. Ducky stood still for a moment, amazed at strength of the woman who had just left.

_Swish_

Rivka did not notice Leo's wife standing outside. She walked past. May Black saw the distressed woman and put two and two together; she came to the conclusion that she was going to kill the woman who had been screwing her husband.

XXX

Ziva stood in the NCIS gym; it was only three pm and despite it being the middle of the afternoon, the gym was empty, the equipment left unused. The events of the last twenty-three hours ran through her head as she stood in the middle of the floor dressed in the yoga pants she kept in her locker and a baggy NCIS t-shirt that reached her mid-thighs. There would have been a time when she would have been confident enough in her body to wear the t-shirt alone, but Saleem had put an end to that. He had left her with scars across her thighs and a messy 'S' scrawled on her inner thigh and body image issues.

A shopping trip with Abby when she had first returned, where she had tried on a dress that was too short, had led to a meltdown in the changing room. Abby had comforted her as best she could and they had eventually found a slightly longer dress in a green colour that made her look beautiful; Tony had not closed his mouth for three seconds when she had arrived at the NCIS Christmas party. But the thought of Saleem and the physical and emotional scars he had left her with still made Ziva feel sick. She kicked her shoes off and pressed the play button on her iPod that was sitting in the dock.

Usually when she came to the gym to let off some steam, she would play fast-paced HaDag Nachash and beat the hell out of the punching bag or kick the padded wall until her feet bled. Today, however, her iPod played soft classical music. Her personal favourite of Tchaikovsky's ballets, 'Swan Lake', echoed in the massive gym. She felt the compulsion to dance. She moved her feet, lifted up her arms, and danced.

Tony stood outside the gym; he looked through the window in the door as Ziva arched her feet and leapt across the floor. Tony could not deny the elegance in the way his partner danced. She looked graceful and beautiful. Tony had never understood the lure of ballet or how Ziva and Ducky could be so engrossed by a dancer's movement, to the point where Ziva could be moved to almost tears. But now little DiNozzo was getting very impressed by all of Ziva's dancing and beginning to make his presence known; Tony began reciting his times tables to try to prevent little DiNozzo standing to attention.

"Twelve times twelve is one hundred and forty-four," he whispered.

Ziva stopped dancing; she found herself feeling surprisingly at peace. An aura of calm came over her. She smiled. For a brief second nothing could touch her. She twirled around, and saw Tony staring in the window. He was moving his lips reciting something. Ziva smirked at her partner's strange antics. She walked towards the door, and motioned for him to open it.

He opened the door slowly, unsure what Ziva wanted him to do. She watched him walk through slowly.

"Tony I do not bite," Ziva said slyly, "Well at least, not when I am wearing so much clothing." Tony smirked and began reciting the eleven times table in his head, so little DiNozzo would make his presence known; he moved forward until he stood in her personal space. Tony could feel Ziva's heavy breathing; a by-product of her exercise it seemed, a fact that surprised him as he had assumed ballet would not be so strenuous.

Ziva stood in Tony's personal space; she could smell his spray deodorant. She could see the stubble below his lips. She found herself attracted to him, desperate to do more than just stand there. Perhaps if they were somewhere more private, she told herself, somewhere where McGee or Gibbs could not just walk in. Perhaps if they were not in the middle of a case, she told herself, making yet another excuse. She had long ago realized there would never be a right time for them; life was not one of Tony's silly movies. They could have crossed the line between a friendship and a romantic relationship a long time ago, but fear held them back. Fear of getting their hearts broken again; both of them had fallen for the wrong people and suffered the consequences. Both of them also lived in fear of Gibbs; neither wanted to disappoint a man they both idolized for only slightly different reasons, by breaking his rule twelve.

"You left me on your couch," Tony uttered, remembering waking up on Ziva's couch that morning before being called into work.

He kept doing his times tables in his head; kept trying to hide his arousal. The arousal was not just sexual, he had feelings. He had been having feelings for his friend on and off for the majority of their partnership. He had been sexually attracted to her since day one; since she had stood in front of him and asked him if he were having phone sex. The emotional attraction had come slightly later, when she had bought him dinner when Monica, his date, had turned out to be married; they had spent the non-date getting progressively drunker and discussing everything from old cases and missions, to their high school experiences.

This had eventually led to Ziva explaining the very complicated way in which she had managed to acquire a Bachelor's degree in Defence Studies and French; as she told it she revealed she had been undercover the whole time investigating the various peace-loving groups that may or may not have been up to un-Israeli activities. Tony had gone home, via taxi because the pair of them had polished off an expensive bottle of wine, and found himself content with how the evening had been, and surprisingly curious about his partner's life; not just about her body.

"Sorry," she whispered. They moved closer. Tony could smell Ziva's scent. Ziva could feel his breathing on her. Both of them had the same idea; both wanted to taste one another. Both craved a kiss. They were so close.

Both of their phones rang. They separated, following Gibbs commands to return to the squad room.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you Anonymous033. I don't own it sigh. _

_**Chapter Ten**_

McGee sat in the pumpkin-walled squad room babysitting not one but two Israelis. He looked out of the glass windows; the sun had set hours ago, and it seemed Team Gibbs would be working through the night, he thought. He checked the clock on his computer and found that they had worked through the night and it was now a new day; the sun would be rising in an hour. Rivka Yaakov was to remain within the walls of NCIS, and Officer Bashan, despite having thousands of tasks to get done, remained close by as if to watch Rivka. McGee had quickly realized the pair used to sleep together; they carried on much like Jenny and Gibbs had when Jenny was first in DC. The two bantered in Hebrew; occasionally Rivka would let out a giggle that reminded McGee of Ziva.

McGeeremembered babysitting Eli in the NCIS safe house some months beforehand; Eli had spoken fondly albeit briefly about his ex-wife, McGee sensed bitterness had crept in by the end of the short conversation. McGee now wondered if Rivka had been the light in the darkness of the David house. McGee watched her and began to think of a suitable name for her in his next book.

Bashan's cell phone rang; the ringtone broke the banter of the room and McGee's musings. Bashan spoke calmly in what appeared to be formal Hebrew. Rivka rolled her eyes as he spoke. Bashan ended the call with a quiet _Shalom_. Rivka looked up.

"Who summoned you?" she asked, this time in English.

"The ambassador," Bashan said. He looked around as if he were debating whether to leave.

"Go," Rivka said. "I am sick of the sight of you," she said before a smile washed over her aging features. Bashan leant forward and gave Rivka a kiss on the cheek. She did not object his advance; she instead welcomed it. They stood for a few seconds breathing the same air. "_Next time on the lips," _she whispered, this time in Hebrew. Bashan began to step away; she smirked.

McGee watched the pair; he was reminded of his parents. Teresa and Simon McGee had been married close to forty years; much of their early marriage had been spent separated with Simon rising up the ranks in the United States Navy and Teresa at home with the children whilst managing her own career as a social worker. Now the couple made up for the lost time, as both their children were living away from home and had their own lives, which much to Teresa's disappointment was yet to include marriages or children. McGee's Facebook feed was constantly cluttered up with his mother's photographs from his parents' cruises and exotic vacations.

Rivka and the man McGee knew only as Bashan seemed so natural together that a stranger would believe they had been married for decades. It took McGee a brief second to remember that they were not; Rivka had been married to Eli David for nearly two decades and had since divorced him, and Bashan, according to tiny, mostly blackened out file he and Tony had somehow managed to acquire, had never married, and had never had children. While they were reading Bashan's file, Tony had connected the dots and said that Bashan had probably only ever loved Rivka, and that if he could not have had her he would not have put anyone else through the pain of having to measure up to her. As McGee recalled the conversation, he wondered how much of Tony's words had been philosophical; Tony had seldom dated after Jeanne. McGee wondered if that was what Tony had been implying. A nagging Abby-like voice in his head suggested it was in fact Ziva Tony was referring to, as the pair had a complicated relationship and never managed to maintain serious long-term relationships with other people.

Bashan finally left; there were no movie scene-like actions from either of the near geriatric lovers, just a polite wave from Bashan and Rivka blowing him a kiss. Rivka waited until the silver elevator doors closed. McGee watched as the former ballet dancer drifted toward Ziva's desk. She began looking around, opening drawers, fiddling with the Israeli flag in Ziva's pen pot, and spinning in the chair. McGee knew Rivka was Ziva's mother and that gave her certain privileges, just as Senior being Tony's father had allowed the elder man to use DiNozzo's computer despite it being against the rules, but he also knew Ziva would not approve of Rivka going through her stuff.

"What are you doing, Mrs. David?" McGee asked, looking up from his computer. Rivka stopped raiding her daughter's desk. She looked up at McGee with a face that said she was not amused. She had a weapon in her hands.

"It has not been Mrs. David for twenty years," Rivka said as she held the knife in a similar manner one would hold a squished bug; she seemed scared of the knife, much to McGee's surprise. "You can call me Rivka, Ms Yaakov if you feel the need to be formal," she said. McGee nodded, slightly intimidated by Rivka. She continued to look through Ziva's desk. There was silence for a second. "You are judging me, Agent McGee?"

"No," the junior field agent declared. "I just don't think Ziva would like you going through her stuff; she's a very private person." Rivka looked at the younger man. He was right, Ziva would not like her stuff being raided; but Rivka did not stop. She needed to know what her daughter's life was like, because she had missed out on almost half of it.

The pair sat in uncomfortable silence at opposite sides of the bullpen.

**XXX**

Tony stood in Abby's lab with Gibbs and the Queen of the lab herself. Music from a band with a slightly disturbing name played at a tolerable volume. She looked at her computer with a frustrated look on her face, a look not alleviated by another Caf-Pow! (her sixth since 0700). NO MATCH flashed again; she sighed. She had tried every known database she had legal access to, and she had not found a single match for the DNA found on Leo Blacks body.

"Nothing, nada, zilch," Abby said sadly. She wanted to prove Ziva's mother's innocence, but forensics was not helping her.

"What about a partial match?" Tony uttered; Abby's head shot up and her eyes lit up. She typed away at the computer ridiculously quickly. A dossier of Kevin Carmichael appeared.

"He's been dead since '06 when his ship was blown up," Gibbs said with sorrow in his voice as he read about the young Navy serviceman's heroic death; he had managed to save two other sailors, and had been awarded a medal for his bravery after his death.

"All we need now is a TARDIS and the case is solved," Tony said in a sarcastic tone. Abby let out a slight giggle. Gibbs looked at his two younger counterparts, confused."Doctor Who, Gibbs," Abby said playfully. "The original series was probably on when you were a kid."

"Doctor What?" Gibbs asked.

"Come on Boss, you have to know the TARDIS," Tony uttered. Gibbs head slapped him.

"If you don't get back to work I'll head slap you all the way to the TARDIS," Gibbs barked.

"Well we've hit a dead end, Boss," Tony replied, "Petty Officer Carmichael has been dead nearly five years."

"It's a partial match," Abby said, "He had no siblings and his mother is dead; his only living relative is his father Rupert Carmichael." Abby pulled Rupert Carmichael's driver's license photograph up. The moment Tony saw the photo he recognized the bad guy.

"It's the cabbie, Boss," Tony said. Abby's computer beeped; she turned away from the conversation for a second and when she turned back around both Tony and Gibbs were gone from her lab. This fact did not surprise her but it disappointed her.

**XXX**

Ziva stood inside the silver elevator, having changed into her clothes from before. She felt relaxed after her dancing and strangely confused after her almost-kiss with Tony. Everything seemed clearer; she was also glad she had opened up to her mother about Somalia. She wondered if there deep and meaningful heart to heart conversation, which included Rivka admitting she probably, had post-partum depression had meant a new turning point in their relationship and if the closeness they had when Ziva was a young child would return.

The silver elevator doors slid open. Ziva noticed her mother sitting at her desk: her drawers were open and stuff was out of place. It took Ziva a while to figure out what was happening, and then it clicked – her mother was going through her stuff, just like she had when Ziva had been a teenager.

"What the hell?" Ziva shouted as she stepped off the elevator. Rivka looked up with a deer-caught-in-headlights look. She stopped rifling through Ziva's drawers. "_This was not cool when I was fifteen and definitely is not cool now_," Ziva shouted, switching to Hebrew when she noticed McGee in the room.

"Ziva," Rivka uttered in a slightly softer tone.

"_No," _Ziva shouted, as all the angst and anger of her teenage years returned with a vengeance, "_I really want to hear your explanation for this_." Ziva began pushing her stuff back into the drawers and away from her mother.

Rivka looked up at her daughter; despite the difference in geographical location the scene was a familiar one to the pair of them, as there had been many arguments over the years over things like Ziva's curfew, friends, and grades, but all of them had started when Rivka had gone through Ziva's stuff. She had not done it to be spiteful; she had done it so she could find out about the daughter who seemed to think her whole life was one big secret. Rivka had so desperately wanted to be part of her daughter's life now that she had tried to catch up. She had gone through the desk, finding stuff of little consequence; a coffee loyalty card for a Turkish café, a library book, a vast selection of muesli bars that had health food messages on them despite being full of calories, and an empty Berry Mango Madness.

"_You are so secretive_," Rivka accused, "_The only way I can find out about my own daughter is to go through her stuff_."

"_That is crap_," Ziva shouted. "_Did we not just have a deep and meaningful conversation? What did you expect to find, my journal with all my secrets?"_

Rivka felt very guilty, and regretful. She realized how badly her actions had hurt her daughter. She knew she should apologize, but her stubbornness got the better of her. She walked towards the elevator without saying a word.

As the silver elevator doors slid closed tears fell down Rivka's aged face.

McGee watched as Ziva sat back at her desk. She looked pissed off; she angrily pushed everything back into the drawers and slammed the drawers shut. She tipped the rubbish into the bin, all whilst muttering what McGee knew was the Hebrew equivalent to _bitch_ over and over again. McGee did not offer any words of comfort, as he had seen this fight a thousand times, just with different players. His mother and Sarah had often fought over silly things when Sarah was a teenager, and lately it had been about Sarah's life choices; McGee's mother did not like the fact that Sarah and her boyfriend had no intention to marry. He looked back at his computer, and he tried not to notice the tears falling down Ziva's cheeks.

**XXX**

May Black sat in her blue car; she punched the dashboard and screamed. She was pissed off. Her husband was dead, her husband had cheated on her with an Israeli woman despite their No Cheating agreement, and the Navy cops were not very close to catching the killer. She looked out into the dark night.

"You bastard, Leo!" She shouted into the darkness, "You God damn bastard, you lying cheating bastard!" She screamed as she stamped on the floor of her car. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! And I hate the Israeli whore." Tears fell down her face; grow up, she told herself. She reminded herself that she was a sixty-three-year-old woman yet she was acting like a teenager.

Rivka walked out of the NCIS building. She did not care about the rules she was breaking; she needed to cool off and think of a way to explain how she just wanted to know about her daughter, to make up for all the conversations she had missed.

May spied Rivka. She uttered a swearword and got out of the car.

"You whore," she shouted; Rivka turned around. She looked at May. May held up one of Leo's gun as a threat to Rivka. She rushed towards Rivka, and pulled Rivka towards her car; Rivka half-heartedly tried to fight, but allowed May to stuff her into the car.

**A/N**: Thank you for all your reviews.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter Eleven**_

Rivka sat in the passenger seat of May Black's car; the woman had obviously lost it. She had a gun in her lap and drove frantically. Rivka understood why the woman had dived off the deep end; her husband, who had no concept of monogamy, had been killed. For May Black, her husband was all she had had, and he had been taken away from her with no warning.

"Look," Rivka said calmly, "We do not have to do this."

An eerie chuckle escaped the white-haired woman.

"We do not have to do this," she spat bitterly. "Of course we do," she shouted, "You…" May paused as the sad emotions of the situation got the better of her; she composed herself and continued. "You are the reason he is dead, and now you are going to die."

At the prospect of her own death, Rivka found herself reflecting on her life. Memories flooded her brain. She could not remember whole events; just snapshots. She remembered playing music with her parents and siblings in their tiny apartment. The last breath of her little brother in the hospital and her mother's piercing cry when she realized her son was dead. She remembered dancing, she remembered meeting Eli in a bar in Rome, and she remembered meeting Michael Bashan at the Israeli embassy party while she was with Eli. Rivka remembered discovering she was pregnant. The fear of telling Eli. She remembered the unromantic proposal, the quickie wedding, and Eli disappearing to a classified location and leaving her pregnant and alone.

Rivka found herself remembering the guilty feeling she had felt, when she had looked at Ziva, and felt nothing. She remembered the nights when she had cried while her baby daughter slept. She remembered when Tali had been born; she remembered how happy Ziva was. The two sisters had loved each other from the moment they met. Rivka found herself remembering the decline of her marriage; she remembered her and Eli's violent arguments and throwing plates. Rivka remembered driving away, trying to build a new life for her and her daughters. She remembered the fights between her and Ziva over things that seemed so silly now. She remembered Ziva walking out, Tali's death, and spending Tali's funeral looking for Ziva, expecting her to turn up.

Rivka felt guilty for having good memories after Tali's death; she remembered the orphanages she had helped out in in Africa. She remembered the schools she had built, that each had Tali David's photo on the wall with a plaque that read _Tali David 1980-1996_. The innocent children who had adored her.

She also remembered receiving the letter from Eli and reading it twice, not believing the words typed on the page; she had had to read them three times. Now as Rivka sat in May Black's passenger seat, she remembered the words in plain black type. Eli's cold words. _Ziva is dead. My condolences. _Rivka found herself remembering the pills she had taken, the alcohol she had drunk, the men she had seduced in the cities of Europe in an effort to make her pain disappear; to make everything better. She remembered the second letter from Eli that had arrived in October 2009. _Ziva is alive_. Rivka found herself recalling her battle to get and stay drug-free; her waning determination, wanting to quit. Wanting it all to end. Then she remembered finding Leo, a man had she found herself happy with. Finally the last two days; seeing Ziva again, seeing Bashan again. Realising she still loved them both. She wanted to have a relationship with her daughter again. Rivka wanted to make up for the lost time with Bashan too. She made the decision that she was going to fight May Black, so at least if May killed her she would go down fighting.

**XXX**

Gibbs faced Rupert Carmichael in the grey interrogation room. The man had not resisted arrest; he had let Gibbs handcuff him and had uttered nothing. Carmichael knew it had been proven that he killed the Admiral. He decided not to plead his innocence.

"I have a rule," Gibbs said. Carmichael looked up at Gibbs. "I don't believe in coincidences." Gibbs was mentally head slapping himself for not picking up on the bad guy. "It's not a coincidence you picked Ms Yaakov up is it?" Gibbs asked.

Carmichael bit his lip in nervousness; he leant forward.

"No," he admitted; he began to tell Gibbs what he had done.

_He looked around the dark harbour; he noticed the boat almost instantly. He walked directly towards it. He had a gun in his hands, and orders to kill Admiral Black and anyone else on the boat so they could not reveal him to be the killer. He got onto the boat; both the occupants were asleep. There were empty wine glasses on the deck. He saw Admiral Leo Black fast asleep. Rupert's blood boiled; Black could sleep all day and lounge on his boat, while Rupert's son was dead. Killed whilst serving the Navy. He held up his gun and shot three times into the Admiral's chest. The woman on the deck stirred. Rupert raised his gun to shoot her, but caught a glimpse of her brown eyes. He saw a pain to similar to his own in her eyes. He put his gun down his pants; the cold metal stung his back._

"_Go back to sleep," he whispered in a soft tone, like the mature woman before him was a child._

"_Tali," she whispered. "Ziva," she finally said before closing her eyes again. He walked off the boat; the gravity of the crime he had committed finally hit him. He had just killed a man. He changed his clothes, like he had been told, and sat back inside his taxi-cab._

"I couldn't kill the woman," Rupert uttered, "She was like me, broken. Like you." Gibbs nodded.

"Why did you pick her up then?" Gibbs asked.

"The person who ordered me to kill Admiral Black told me to get rid of her," Rupert said. "I couldn't do that either; the only reason I killed the Admiral is because he was sitting in his fancy boat on the Navy's dime, whilst my son Kevin died serving in the Navy."

"And who ordered you to kill her?" Gibbs asked.

"May Black," Rupert said. Gibbs rushed out of Interrogation.

**XXX**

Ziva stood in the observation room. Tony was watching the scene with limited interest. He wondered why his partner was acting strange.

"Everything ok?" He asked. Ziva looked at him and nodded. "So that's a no."

"A nod is a yes," Ziva replied, "We are not in India."

"What?" Tony asked, confused by her statement; he wondered what idiom his partner was mixing up now.

"In India a nod means no and the shaking of one's head means yes," Ziva replied as she looked at the other side of the glass.

"Your ninja senses are tingling," Tony said. Ziva did not say a thing, but her eyes begged him to continue his sentence. "I know you, Ziva; when you know something's up you get all," Tony paused. He did not know what to call Ziva at the moment; she was pacing, being moody, and not opening up, "Like this."

"You do not know me Tony," Ziva replied. Tony rolled his eyes. He knew Ziva and Ziva knew him; they were partners. Very close partners.

"I know you Ziva," Tony said, "I know you like to run out into the rain because it still surprises you when it falls even after five years in DC, I know you do not go a single night without a nightmare, and I know you use books to escape." Tony looked at her; she looked back at him, almost surprised he knew so much about her. "I also know that despite all the crap your parents put you through, you still cannot bear the thought of losing either one of them, because you have already lost so many other people." Tony found himself remembering the previous November when Eli had been in town, and the safe house had been compromised; the thought of burying the father she had once loved despite him leaving her to die had upset her more than everyone including Ziva had expected.

"I know you too, Tony," Ziva replied, deliberately trying to change the topic of conversation. "I know you wonder what your life would have been like if you had found a woman to marry and had had a couple of children, I know you use movies to escape, and I know you must know everything. I am fine."

"No you're not." Tony replied. Ziva was fiddling with her silver Star of David. Tony was frustrated; he was sick of her hiding, because when she did it ended up hurting him as much as it hurt her. Ziva leaned her forehead on the glass window. She closed her eyes.

"Fine," she snapped, opening her eyes again. "I am not fine," she shouted. Tony's hand met hers. "Rivka and I had a fight." Ziva finally admitted. Tony could tell by Ziva calling her mother by the first name that all her teenage insecurities about her mother and their difficult relationship were back again. "She was going through my stuff."

Tony remained silent, but understood why the fight had started; Ziva was one of those people that released personal information about themselves slowly and ontheir own terms. Tony would not have been surprised if the trauma psychologist she had been seeing since her return from Somalia had only just started receiving the details of her trauma over a year since the sessions had started.

"I feel bad now," Ziva uttered. "I should not have shouted at her. She was just trying to catch up."

"Then talk to her," he told her, remembering her giving him similar advice when his father had been last in town. Ziva nodded.

"It would be Tali's birthday tomorrow," Ziva finally said. "She would be thirty-one; she once did one of those five-point plans." Tony had never understood why women did those; he had never understood the need to plan every aspect of their lives. "She wanted to be a journalist, get married, and have a child or two by now."

"She sounded organized," Tony said.

"No," Ziva said, "Her room was a mess and when we lived in Haifa and had to share I used to get so annoyed at her not putting her crap away." Ziva found herself looking into the distance, remembering the numerous shouting matches between the two sisters over silly things.

"Can't be perfect," Tony uttered.

"No," Ziva said, her voice indicating she was a million miles away, "She never was a perfectionist like ima." Tony put the pieces together and realised the torment Ziva must have been through when she was a child, he father trying to mould her into something she was not and a mother with perfectionism.

"Must have made your childhood fun," Tony uttered. Ziva let out a half-chuckle.

"Yeah," she replied in a sarcastic tone. There was silence in the room. "It is what it is." Ziva finally said, uttering her almost famous line; one she uttered when she could not think of anything else to explain why she had been through the hell she had been through.

"It shouldn't have been," Tony said quietly; he was speaking for both of them. Their childhoods should have been happy but they were not and they could do nothing about it.

"The past is the past," Ziva replied.

"Do you want a future with Rivka?" Tony asked. Ziva looked at him.

"Yes," Ziva replied.

"Then you should talk to her," Tony said, "It worked for me and Senior."

"I need to find her first," Ziva said as she left the room.

**XXX**

McGee sat at his desk a hundred per cent certain his boss was going to kill him. He had managed to lose Rivka Yaakov; she had walked away after her fight with Ziva. McGee had assumed the woman had run off to the bathroom or to the lobby. It turned out she had run out of the building. McGee ran through the security camera footage hoping to find where she had run off to. He could not; she seemed to have run into a blind spot then disappeared into thin air.

Gibbs walked into the bullpen. He craved caffeine but needed to tail May Black first. DiNozzo was babysitting Carmichael and probably beating himself up for not realizing Carmichael was the killer sooner. Ziva had disappeared, a fact that did not surprise Gibbs as she was dealing with a lot.

"McGee! Track May Black's cell phone," Gibbs barked. McGee typed furiously at his computer. May Black had been stupid enough to leave her cell phone on even though she wasn't using it. Gibbs moved behind McGee and breathed over his shoulder. McGee looked at the data on his computer screen.

"She's moving Boss, I think in a car." McGee said. Gibbs moved back towards his desk and grabbed his gun.

"Where's the car going?" Gibbs asked. Ziva walked into the bullpen. She looked around hoping to see her mother.

"West," McGee said. Gibbs strode to the elevator.

"McGee," Ziva asked, "Where is my mother?" McGee bit his lip.

"I don't know," he said. Ziva rushed towards the elevator, on Gibbs's tail. McGee did not question why.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you to my awesome beta. And I don't own NCIS, if I did my sisters would probably break it.

**Chapter Twelve**

Rivka sat in the passenger seat of May Black's blue car, with the wife of the man whom had she had been sleeping with. A man who was now dead.

"May," Rivka said, "I know you are upset."

"Upset!" May shouted. "I am more than upset that you are the whore that stole my husband."

"Wait," Rivka said, thinking the entire situation through for a second, "Why are you getting angry at me? I did not ask him to cheat on you. Leo was the bastard. Leo cheated on you."

May seemed to realize what Rivka was saying was the truth; she lessened her grip on her gun. Rivka saw this as an opportunity to strike. She grabbed May's gun, leant over, and stopped the car as she hit May on the head with the gun. May fell unconscious, her fair hair falling over her face. Rivka got out of the car and left the door open; she pulled a knocked out May into the passenger seat of the car. The woman groaned like she had a bad hangover but did not move. Rivka looked around the car, hoping to find something to tie May up with; she found the belt of May's coat. She tied May's arm to the inside handle of the car. Rivka pulled the belt from the pants she was wearing and tied May's other arm to the arm rest of the car. May began to wake. Rivka counted her blessings that she had not killed the woman. She grabbed May's cell phone and dialed a familiar number; Michael Bashan's.

**XXX**

"Shalom," Bashan uttered as he sat in his office in the Israeli embassy, trying to complete the paperwork set aside for him.

"Miche," Rivka whispered.

"Rivi," Bashan replied, using her nickname and completely surprised at her being on the other end of the phone.

"I have been kidnapped by May Black but I managed to get control of the car, can you give me directions to NCIS?" Rivka said ridiculously quickly.

Bashan took a few seconds to fathom what he had just heard, but called for one of the techie's in the embassy to come and track Rivka's call, so he could help her out. The elder man could not help but smirk at the thought of the damsel in distress rescuing herself. _Typical Rivka_, he mused as the tech guy, a man over forty years his junior who seemed rather disappointed with the tedious task he had been given, very simply located May's phone and pulled up a map for Bashan to read and give Rivka directions.

Bashan began to worry as he realized Rivka with her unique style of driving would have to navigate Washington DC's busiest highway. He silently prayed to a God he seldom worshipped. Rivka listened as she was given the directions; Bashan also reminded her of the speed limits in America, and hoped Rivka did not believe one hundred kilometers was equal to one hundred miles. Rivka hung up the phone, and the tech guy left the office, in search of Ayelet, the pretty receptionist who had a thing for men in their twenties. Bashan dialled Ziva's number.

**XXX**

Gibbs and Ziva sat in his car. Ziva had been on edge since Rivka flew back into her life just the day before, bringing teenage angst and insecurities with her. Since it had been revealed that Rivka was missing and not communicating with any of them, Ziva had gone from being on edge, to trying desperately to hide her worry. But Gibbs noticed; he saw her moving her hands trying to distract herself, he saw her bite her lip trying to stop any emotion from blanketing her face.

"Ziver," Gibbs said softly. His cellphone was on speaker and attached to the dashboard following the laws of driving with cellphones; McGee was back at NCIS tracing May Black's cell phone. His cellphone rang; after less than ten seconds Ziva silenced the default factory ringtone and pressed the green button, allowing the call to commence.

"Boss," McGee shouted through the phone, thus ending any chance for a tricky surrogate father-daughter conversation about her mother and their difficult relationship. Ziva had never being so thankful for McGee in her life. "May Black's cell phone just made a call to a phone in the Israeli embassy," the junior agent declared in a tone that suggested he was rather surprised at the turn of events. Gibbs and Ziva both offered no reply; both too were surprised at what appeared to be happening.

"Which phone, McGee?" Gibbs barked as his mind went through the potential possibilities; Bashan could be in on it, May Black could have a friend in the Israeli embassy, or the third and perhaps strangest option was that May Black and Rivka Yaakov were together. If so, could May be calling the Israeli embassy to inform Bashan that Rivka was dead?

He could see Ziva's pain-filled chocolate eyes in the rearview mirror; she was running through the possibilities too. Gibbs watched the worry creep into her eyes. He thought of how unfair it was for her; just a few months ago, she had feared she would lose her father and despite how much she hated him for the hell he had put her through, she had been upset at the prospect. Now, her mother, and the lesser of the two evils of her parents, was in harm's way too. Ziva had already lost so many people; siblings, relatives, friends, and lovers. Losing a parent would not break her; Gibbs knew that, as Ziva was the strongest person he knew, but it would hurt her a lot.

"Well that's encrypted, and the car is moving," McGee paused. "Really fast, on the opposite side of the road and back the way it came."

"Oh God Rivka's driving," Ziva cried with genuine fear in her voice but happiness in her eyes, as this meant Rivka was not dead.

She remembered the yearly trek across Israel from Tel Aviv to Haifa where Rivka would skid and swerve and Tali would end up throwing up on the side of the road. Ziva had a stronger stomach but almost always came close to throwing up. Rivka's driving had been the primary factor that had persuaded Ziva to teach herself to drive, the other factor being that her father was smoking plant-based drugs and blowing up Russians at the time; of course Rivka and Ziva had managed one driving lesson, which Tali had spent the majority of trying not to throw up in the backseat. Ziva's overall driving style ended up being in between her parents, leaning more towards her mother's in times of emergency, like when she was late for work.

Ziva's phone went off. BASHAN blinked in black letters. Gibbs caught the caller ID.

"Speaker," the elder man said as he sped up his driving. Ziva flipped open the phone and put it on speakerphone.

"I take it Rivka called," Ziva said. Bashan did not have time to acknowledge Ziva's lack of small talk.

"Apparently May Black kidnapped her and Rivka is trying to drive back to NCIS," Bashan said. "God help us."

"McGee, what does May Black drive?" Gibbs barked. The younger man paused and loudly typed away.

"McGee!" Gibbs impatiently barked.

"She drives a 1997 Mazda Protegé ES; it is blue." McGee said, "Number plate is Alpha, Romeo, Zulu, three, four, six." Gibbs sped up even more and did a U-turn, just as a car matching the exact description sped down the road on the wrong side of it.

**XXX**

Rivka drove as quickly as she could; she had worked out that in America they drove on the other side of the road and had corrected herself without causing a major accident, just a few beeped horns and swearwords from other drivers. May had woken up, and Rivka found herself regretting not covering the woman's mouth as May would not shut up.

"You psycho, husband stealing, whore," May shouted. "You'll pay for this, you'll be charged with kidnapping."

"You did it first," Rivka uttered calmly. May began moving around trying to pull at Rivka's do-it-yourself restraints; the years of tying up ballet shoes had paid off, and the knots were as tight as the parking spaces in Tel Aviv. A navy blue car came up behind her; it had flashing lights. Rivka recognized it as an NCIS DodgeCharger_._

May saw the car too and decided now was the time to yell for help.

"Help!" She yelled. "Help!" She shouted, kicking at the car door. Rivka looked in her rear view mirror and saw Ziva waving at her, telling her to stop. Rivka began to slow down, and pulled over to the side of the road, managing to avoid an accident. Gibbs pulled over behind her. Ziva dashed out of Gibbs' car before the engine had stopped. She noticed May tied up and began to laugh. Gibbs quickly made his way to the car. A smirk crossed his face too as he saw what Rivka had done. Gibbs opened the passenger door.

"That whore tried to kill me." May declared. Gibbs held out his handcuffs.

"May Black you are under arrest, as an accessory to the murder of Admiral Leo Black." Gibbs said as he leant over to undo Rivka's makeshift handcuffs.

"I did not kill him," May protested.

"No, but you ordered the taxi driver to." Gibbs said.

"The taxi-driver?" Rivka asked, "The one with the sad eyes?"

"Yes," Ziva said in a soft voice as she led her mother out of May Black's car.

"He was supposed to kill you too." May shouted as Gibbs pulled her out of the car and handcuffed her. He led her to the Charger. She was still protesting.

Ziva and Rivka stood silently by the side of the road. They were close but not touching. The steam from the argument before blown over, neither bothered with apologies as they were unneeded; both had understood where the other was coming from and both were sorry for what had happened.

"Your driving has gotten worse," Ziva said in a joking tone. Rivka let out a laugh.

"It is usually better, there were extenuating circumstances," Rivka said.

"Do you remember that time, when you were trying to teach me how to drive?" Ziva said, "And Tali was in the backseat. We drove around the parking lot in circles." A smile crossed Rivka's face as she remembered the Saturday afternoon spent driving, while many occupants of Haifa celebrated Shabbat.

"Tali threw up three times," Rivka said, "I could not get the smell out of the car for months. I believe driving was the only thing your sister inherited from your father."

Ziva found herself recalling happy memories of her little sister, of singing along to pop songs, of Tali's face lighting up when Ziva brought her pretty things. Memories of her distant childhood plagued her mind as she remembered playing with dolls with Tali; Ziva's dolls abseiled while Tali's led the country. She remembered how completely different Tali and Eli were; Tali had inherited Eli's curly hair and his driving style but not much else. Ziva had inherited his sense of duty, his stubbornness and his fear of displaying emotions as they could be construed as weakness. Both of Rivka's daughters had inherited her ability to dance, her love of reading, and her athletic build.

"She would be thirty-one tomorrow," Ziva finally said. "She wanted to go to university do journalism, get married, and have a child or two by now."

"I know," Rivka said as her eyes went glassy. "I remember you two arguing over the stupidity of planning out your own life."

"It seems so silly now," Ziva replied; it all really did seem so silly now. Ziva wished she could rewind her life, and cherish every moment she had with Tali, and fight with Rivka less. Rivka nodded.

"We should celebrate her birthday," Rivka finally said. Ziva found herself remembering their silly little birthday traditions; the paper crowns and home-baked birthday cake which was always burnt as neither Rivka, Ziva nor Tali knew how to bake, but thanks to Aunt Netties intervention Ziva had learnt to cook meals and bake bread just not cakes. Whoever was playing man of the house, whether it was Eli, his childless brother Uriel, or Bashan, would then go to the local store and collect a ready-baked cake from the store.

"We should," Ziva said as she slid into the driver's seat of May Black's car, knowing that it would be disastrous if she put Rivka and May back in the same car. Gibbs drove off and indicated for Ziva to follow.

"You know I could drive," Rivka suggested. Ziva shook her head.

"I think you have had enough driving for one day," Ziva said. Rivka got into the passenger seat. Ziva handed her mother her cell phone. "Call Bashan; he is probably worried about you." Rivka held Ziva's phone for a second and processed the last few hours. She pressed B on Ziva's contact list, and saw a couple of names she did not recognize; she did not pry into her daughter's social life, having learnt her lesson from earlier that day. Her fingers finally scrolled down to BASHAN; she pressed the green button.

**XXX**

"Hello stranger," Rivka whispered into the phone. In his office in the Israeli embassy, Bashan was silent for a moment. "Miche."

"Rivi," he said as he silently thanked God she was okay. He picked up his car keys, and headed to NCIS for the second time that day.

He was stopped by the ambassador, who seemed to believe Bashan was his personal slave.

"Where are you going?" the brown-haired ambassador Ori Likud shouted.

"Personal emergency," Bashan said using the ambassador's own words, words he used when he was off seeing his mistress instead of dealing with issues pertaining to the State of Israel.

"You have work to do," the ambassador said, "You cannot leave." Bashan felt trapped; he began to wonder why he still worked for the embassy as he had enough money to retire. He had just never had a reason to retire before; Rivka now became his reason.

"Not if I quit," Bashan shouted back. The ambassador was silent as Bashan walked away.

"Ayelet, get Eli David on the phone," the ambassador cried.

**A/N**: Sorry for the bad facts in the last chapter. Infinite Rhapsody pointed out that in India people really don't shake their heads for yes and nod for no . Sorry didn't mean to hurt of insult anyone with that.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

May Black looked around the grey-walled room. The grey colour depressed her. She knew Rupert had been in here a few hours before. She was slightly sorry that Rupert had gotten caught up in this whole situation but not as sorry as she should be; after all Rupert Carmichael had had his own reasons for killing Leo. She remembered meeting him, when she was in a taxi-cab. She had realized Leo was cheating on her again.

_It was raining in DC; hardly anything new, but May Black found herself without an umbrella. She was furious at herself for forgetting it, as she had recently dyed her hair and she knew the continuous exposure to the heavy downpour would ruin her dye job. As she took cover under the awning of a shop, she wondered why she bothered, why she did not just allow it to go gracefully grey. The answer was simple; she did it for her husband so she could pretend he was still interested in her. She did it so she could pretend she was still young and blonde. Of course, her efforts to keep her husband interested were failing. Leo seemed less and less interested in her._

_A taxi-cab pulled up in front of her._

"_Need a ride?" The grey-haired driver said, leaning out of the driver's window._

"_Yes," May said as she ran to car, trying and failing to keep herself dry with her hands. The driver all but laughed at her._

_She sat down in the seat and told him where she needed to go. She picked up her cellphone and dialled Leo's number._

"_Hello?" A woman asked in a soft exotic voice. May hung up. She kicked the chair and banged her fists on the leather back._

"_Bastard!" She screamed._

"_Ma'am," the driver said. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't beat up my car."_

"_He's cheating on me with some exotic woman," May said. "Bastard!"_

"_Get a divorce," he said as he drove along the road._

"_He won't divorce me until he retires from the Navy; it will look bad for him if he divorces." May said, "And this isn't the first time. I want to kill him!" She banged the seat again._

"_I'm sure it could be arranged," Rupert said as he looked at the photo of his son dressed in his Navy uniform. May looked at him through the rearview mirror. She nodded._

Gibbs walked in carrying a cup of coffee.

"One of my agents has a saying," Gibbs said. "It's always the wife who did it." "You want to know why?" May whispered.

"I've had three ex-wives; all three have tried to kill me. It was because he cheated," Gibbs said. He had only cheated on one of his wives, Diane. It had been with Jenny; and to be fair Diane had been cheating on Jethro with Fornell for the majority of their short-lived marriage. Diane had only divorced him seven months before Emily Fornell was born

"It wasn't just with the Israeli woman; it was every damn woman he could find. He even paid for one of them to get an abortion in 1994," May said. "He would not divorce me because he thought that a wife would benefit his career."

"Where does Rupert Carmichael come into it?" Gibbs asked.

"We met a few times. He told me about his son; he died on a Navy ship that blew up. His son only joined the Navy to pay for college. Rupert was angry. He wanted someone to pay," May whispered. "He wanted the money too."

_May sat down in the park. Rupert looked up._

"_You should let it go grey," Rupert told her as she sat next to him._

"_What?" May said._

"_Your hair," Rupert said, "It's pretty." _

"_Rupert," May whispered. "Why are you agreeing to do this?" Rupert was silent; he looked around the park, directly at a father and son who were playing ball._

"_The Navy killed my son," Rupert said as he handed May a photo of him and his son, who was dressed in his Navy uniform. May felt a tear prick her eyes. "He was on a ship that blew up."_

"_I'm sorry," May whispered._

"I just wanted Leo to stop cheating. I wanted to have a good marriage. I was sick of being the butt of the jokes by the other wives. I wanted him to pay for all the times he walked in and smelt of exotic perfume, or all the times I heard him talk to the women over the phone and arrange dates and hotels." May said.

Gibbs walked out as May broke down.

**XXX**

Eli David hung up the phone on the ambassador in the US. He found he disliked Ori Likud's phone manners. He had been told Michael Bashan had quit, because of Eli's ex-wife and Bashan's former lover Rivka. Eli kicked his desk in anger. Malachi Ben-Gidon let himself into Eli's office; he had a sad look on his face.

"I will order another desk," Malachi said as he looked at the gaping hole Eli had created in his desk.

"Do it in the morning," Eli said as he checked the time, "Go home, call Liat, do whatever it is you people do." Eli found himself wishing he had someone to go home to; he was sleeping with the married female deputy director Channah Calev, but she had decided to go home to her husband and child, much to Eli's disappointment.

"We are no longer doing what we are doing." Malachi said, as he found Eli's secret supply of alcohol. "She said she liked me a lot."

"I imagine that happens when you sleep with someone for a few months," Eli said, speaking more for himself than for Malachi. Malachi was a man who hopped between women like a pilot hopped on planes. Almost every woman in Mossad had slept with Malachi; it would be no surprise to Eli if Ziva was on the list.

"I do not want that," Malachi said taking a long sip of alcohol, "May I speak honestly, sir?"

"Never stopped you before," Eli said as he looked at the bottle of alcohol; he was tempted to take the bottle and drink the majority of it.

"I've seen how your family suffered because of your job; I could not do that to someone. I cannot be the parent that misses soccer games or the husband who is never there. My father was bad enough," Malachi said. Eli felt a tiny bit of sympathy for the younger man; his father had been a general in the IDF and had been home about as often as Eli had been with his children. Malachi's long-suffering mother Gillah had killed herself when Malachi was away in the army, realizing she had nothing left to live for. "So I break up with the girls when they start telling me they like me; it's easier to hurt them early on than string them along, and hurt them even more." Eli got up and grabbed the bottle of alcohol. He did not even bother with a glass; he put the bottle to his lips Malachi's words stung him.

"Go home Malachi." Eli said. Malachi walked out no doubt to head to the clubs in the centre of Tel Aviv. Eli picked up his phone.

**XXX**

Michael Bashan drove his car down Embassy Row; he felt strangely relieved having quit, though he would miss his nightly walks, when he saw the embassy staff from various places hiding their vices, extra-marital affairs, and drinking problems. He would not miss having to sneak the ambassador's son Chaim in and force him into the shower, so Chaim's mother would not smell the drugs and alcohol on him; nor would he miss the ambassadress's flirty mother. His phone rang, playing the default factory ringtone. He recognized the caller ID. Eli David. He gulped and pressed the green button.

"You bastard!" Eli David shouted skipping awkward small talk. Bashan took a deep breath.

"Eli," Bashan said.

"She is my wife," Eli shouted. "Screwing her for the majority of my marriage was not enough for you?"

"Was," Bashan said. "She was your wife. You two have been divorced for twenty years."

"She is mine." Eli shouted even louder than before. "She is not for you to take. You cannot take my family from me."

"Just like NCIS took Ziva," Bashan uttered in a mocking tone. "Because Ziva certainly does not seem to believe they took her; if anything she believes they saved her from herself and from you. How long would it have been until Ziva ended up like Ari? How long before Rivka ended up like Hazmia?" Bashan remembered many of his and Eli's meetings, where Eli had suggested Ari's mother be killed in a retaliatory strike as she had served her purpose. He remembered Ziva's words when she had been at the embassy after the Iranians she had told Bashan how Eli had found a solution for Ari, and his actions on American soil.

"How dare you?" Eli shouted. Bashan heard him throw something.

"Neither Ziva nor Rivka are for you to control. They are able to make their own decisions, live their own lives. As am I. I quit." Bashan heard Eli kick something, and hung up the phone.

Bashan drove along the empty road; he turned his music up loudly and took off his tie. Eli had not ended the telephone call with threats. Eli knew Bashan would defend himself if Eli tried, and Eli would not try to hurt his ex-wife or estranged daughter, because despite the fact that he hated that they had left him, he still cared for the both of them and would not have the heart to kill them.

Bashan kept driving until he reached NCIS and Rivka. _I'm free_ he thought _I am finally free._

**A/N**: I took a break from writing complicated!Eli and decided to write Bastard!Eli that's the last you'll see of him folks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Gibbs and Rivka stood in the break room of NCIS. Gibbs made coffee; he silently offered Rivka some but she refused. He remembered their conversation before, when Rivka had recognized Gibbs's sad eyes.

"Her name was Kelly," Gibbs said as he put his coffee to his lips. Rivka realized what the conversation was about and her face fell. "She was eight when she died, with her mom. They were killed in a car accident in 1991." Gibbs did not explain the full situation, as it was not needed. Rivka did not need to hear about the Renoysa cartel.

"My condolences," Rivka said softly. She took a piece of fruit from the bowl. She thought about Bashan for a second and noticed Gibbs's bare finger. "You know, just because you lost them does not mean you should not find love again." Holly Snow, Gibbs's friend who was a former madam, crossed his tired mind; they ate dinner every week as friends, and both had hinted that they wanted more but neither had made a move. Gibbs had a fear of losing yet another woman he had come to care about, and Holly was enjoying being single and celibate after nearly twenty-five years of selling her body to the night and arranging meetings between other women and Johns. "I suppose Ziva told you about Tali," Rivka said, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

Gibbs shook his head.

Ziva had never said anything to him about Tali. Jenny had been the person that informed him Tali had even existed, during Ziva's first year at NCIS. As the anniversary of Tali David's death loomed Jenny had pulled Gibbs aside and told him to take it easy on Ziva. Gibbs had ignored the director's advice, even when Ziva had appeared at work with dark circles around her eyes and her hair messy. On that day, he had pushed her harder, and Gibbs could tell she was thankful for it. She had needed a break from her thoughts, from her all-consuming grief. Gibbs had offered her a chance to talk by suggesting they grab a beer. Ziva had politely refused; Gibbs had accepted her refusal and wished her a good night.

Each year Gibbs did the same thing. He worked her hard, allowed her to lose herself in her work then invited an opportunity to talk but understood when Ziva politely refused. Gibbs had only found out the year before that Ziva sought Tony's comfort on the anniversary every year. They would watch both Tali and Ziva's favorite movie 'The Sound of Music' in Tony's small apartment and he would let Ziva talk. He would let her remember. He never forced her to talk. Gibbs was happy Ziva had someone to turn to.

"Oh," Rivka said. She seemed lost in her memories. "She was sixteen when she died in a bus bomb; the bus was heading to a peace rally." Rivka paused. "Even though Ziva and I had not been speaking since she joined Mossad, Ziva used to send Tali little cards. They were close despite being polar opposites." Gibbs found himself thinking of Abby and Ziva's relationship as Rivka spoke; Ducky often compared the two of them to sisters. Gibbs was inclined to believe him, as the pairs' fights were like that of siblings rather than friends. "They were so different," Rivka babbled. "Ziva was night and Tali was day."

"There's someone I want you to meet." Gibbs said as he led Rivka to the lab.

**XXX**

Abby Sciuto stood in her lab; she was doing work for Agent Miller's team while listening to Interpol's song 'Evil'. She had heard of Ziva's mother saving herself and tying up May Black before driving through DC, and had decided the woman was legendary. She was desperate to meet Rivka, but Miller's team had given her a pile of forensics to sort through. She sensed the door open; Abby was puzzled by this as Agent Thomas Miller, despite being of a similar age to Gibbs, was not like Gibbs – as in he did not have an internal sensor to tell him she had found something. Abby turned around rather quickly, causing her skirt to twirl. Gibbs stood before her offering a Caf-Pow!, and with Rivka Yaakov next to him.

"This is Abby Sciuto," Gibbs said. "She's the forensic tech here and friends with Ziva." Rivka nodded. She was rather surprised by Abby's appearance and by the fact Ziva had a female friend. Ziva had never played well with other girls as a child; she had preferred climbing trees to dolls. In fact, as a child Ziva had only really had one friend – Khaleed the Muslim neighbor –and when he died she had been devastated. In the intervening years between his death and when they went to Haifa Ziva had not made another close friend; she seldom socialized with other children, preferring to escape into books, because books could not die. When she was a teenager in Haifa, she had one female friend but that friend was even less girly than Ziva was. The woman before Rivka was wearing a skirt.

"Hi Ms Yaakov," Abby said nervously. "Sorry for nearly sending you to jail." Rivka bit her lip to suppress a laugh.

"You can call me Rivka; nobody has called me Ms. Yaakov since I last attended one of those parent-teacher meetings," she said in a tone that indicated they were frequent and not pleasant. "And the murder thing, well it's water beneath the bridge."

"Ok Rivka," Abby said; she smiled at Rivka's misuse of the idiom. Silence stewed in the room.

"I see you are at a loss as to what to say. I guess it is true what the autopsy boy said; Ziva did not talk about me much," Rivka said awkwardly.

"She did," Abby said. "We used to have," Abby paused, thinking of a diplomatic way to explain how they had spent the last five Mother's Days bitching and moaning about their mothers, and then ended up wondering if they would ever talk to them again. "Conversations about our mothers."

"I take it they were not pleasant," Rivka said. Abby looked away trying to hide her face, trying to protect the elder from the truth.

"Yeah," Abby said, "I guess we were both just venting. I mean she always told me about happy times too and when you were a suspect I did not want to believe it was you." Rivka was humbled by the young Goth's honest compassion. She was reminded of her younger daughter; Rivka knew it was unfair to compare Abby to Tali but the pair had the same compassionate nature and full heart. For the first time Rivka began to picture Tali all grown up, and it did not hurt. She imagined Tali a lot like Abby but perhaps with the less extreme style of dress. A smile crossed Rivka's features.

Rivka found herself engulfed in a hug. It all but sucked the breath out of her. She found herself feeling strangely at ease. She wrapped her arms around the woman she knew very little about. The two women stood for a moment. Finally Rivka pulled herself away.

**XXX**

Tony sat in the orange-walled squad room; he was all alone with Ziva's dark-haired mother Rivka. The woman sat on Ziva's chair but not behind her desk; instead, she sat in the middle of squad room. Tony had heard about the mother-and-daughter fight earlier that day over Rivka looking through Ziva's stuff; Rivka had obviously decided to create some boundaries by sitting away from temptation.

Rivka studied Tony; Bashan had informed her that Tony and her daughter had some sort of relationship but that it was complicated. Rivka was curious and concerned as she did not want her daughter to get hurt.

"Agent DiNozzo," she said, using his title and last name. Formality was the only form of manners her sister had instilled in her, as her parents had been too busy with her brother.

"You can call me Tony, Ms Yaakov," Tony replied, not looking up from whatever he was doing on his computer.

"You may call me Rivka," Rivka replied. She opened her mouth but did not speak. Finally, she summoned up the courage to ask him what she wanted to know. "What is your relationship with my daughter?"

Tony was silent as he looked up from the paperwork he was doing. The question was suspended in the silence of the bullpen. He did not know how to define his and Ziva's relationship. They had not yet slept together, but they both wanted to and had fooled around when they had been undercover over five years ago, and gotten drunk together when they had been told they were being separated a couple of summers ago. Past sins seemed to be forgiven; Jeanne, Michael, and Ziva's missed citizenship ceremony. Tony was sure he loved her but was not a hundred per cent sure he was in love with her. In the end, he settled for what they were in terms of NCIS.

"She is my partner. I will always have her back," he said. Rivka screwed up her face; she had obviously misinterpreted something that Tony had said.

"From the back," Rivka said, believing Tony's statement to have something to do with anal sex. "Well I guess it makes some people happy." Tony's face pulled an equally horrified expression as he realized she had mistaken his sentence for a euphemism for anal sex.

"No," he said, "It's cop speak. It means I'll always be there. I won't let her get hurt on the job." Rivka's face softened and she laughed.

"Oh," Rivka said. "What about off the job; do you make it your job to protect her from hurt then?" Tony looked at the woman confused. "My daughter does a good-enough job of protecting herself from hurt, and she misses out. I just want her to be happy."

The silver elevator doors opened and Bashan stepped out. The man looked flustered. Rivka turned to face him. He walked towards Rivka.

"See I'm alive," she said, holding up her arms. Bashan let out a breath he had not known he was holding. He worried so much about losing Rivka again, after everything they had been through. He kissed her cheek. A smile crossed her face. She grabbed Bashan's face and kissed his lips. Bashan was surprised but quickly continued.

Tony watched the couple who was close to retiree-age kiss like teenagers. He finally understood what Rivka was trying to tell him; she wanted Ziva to be happy just like she and Bashan were but not to have waited as long as she and Bashan had. Tony began to wonder if Ziva wanted that too. He decided he needed to man up and finally talk to her. He considered having a drink or two before he did but decided against it, as he had seen his father do the same thing, and it never went well.

Ziva walked into the bullpen just as Rivka and Bashan broke apart. They whispered in Hebrew, smiles crossing both their faces. Rivka turned and saw Ziva. Bashan sucked in a big breath; DiNozzo decided the old man had seen too many movies where the kid goes off at the mother's new boyfriend.

"Ziva," Rivka said. She took a deep breath, obviously having seen the same movies. "Tomorrow, we should cook or something for Tali's birthday." Ziva nodded.

"Yes," Ziva said. "I take it Bashan is letting you sleep on his couch?" She added awkwardly. Rivka let out a slight giggle. Ziva leaned forward, and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Laila Tov." Rivka kissed Ziva's cheek, then held her face for a second, and looked into her daughter's big brown eyes.

"Laila Tov," Rivka whispered before letting go of Ziva's face; Bashan took her hand and led her to the elevator. Rivka turned back. "Tomorrow please wear a skirt and bring Tony," she said. Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Fine," Ziva shouted back as Rivka and Bashan slipped into the elevator.

Tony watched Ziva as she watched her mother and her mother's boyfriend walk away; the pair of them were deliriously happy. Ziva could not be happier for them and found herself craving the same happiness. Tony decided to man up but the fear of rejection still lingered, so he decided to suggest something safe before going deeper, before rejection was a big possibility.

"Wanna grab something to eat?" He asked Ziva; she turned to face him.

"Where from?" she replied; she was not in the mood for takeout nor was she in the mood to cook something herself.

"I could cook," Tony said; he regretted the words almost the second they fell from his mouth, and he began to wonder if Ziva would misinterpret his invitation as something to more than dinner. Which he wanted it to be, but if she did not want that, he would have been happy to just eat dinner with her, albeit being maybe a tad disappointed.

"You cook?" Ziva said with a raised eyebrow. Memories of movie nights and piano lessons during the summer Gibbs was away flashed through her mind; she had cooked on the few occasions they did not order takeout, and Tony had never shown any inclination of wishing to help.

"That I do Miss David," Tony said as they both packed up their gear; they too migrated to the elevator.

"So what are you cooking?" Ziva asked as the silver doors opened.

"DiNozzo surprise," he said as they walked in, as he had no idea what he was cooking yet as he did not have a clue what was in his cupboards.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Holly Snow was disturbed from examining the paint strokes in a copy of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa and comparing them to other artists of the time period by a fast knocking on her red door. She wrapped her red cardigan around her waist and headed towards the door of her plain cream-walled apartment, past her posters of Moulin Rouge can-can dancers.

She racked her brain for who could be visiting her; she had not invited anyone, and the girls from the 'business' whom she kept in touch with usually called first, before they turned up with a bottle of wine to bitch about clients, or with vodka if the meeting had gone particularly badly. She stood on her tiptoes and looked through the peephole. To her surprise, she saw Gibbs, with his aqua blue eyes and calloused hands. She opened the door and found Gibbs had brought food.

"Well now I have to let you in," Holly declared as she allowed Gibbs to follow her into her messy apartment; she had not eaten all day.

She grabbed plates, a bottle of white wine, and wine glasses from the kitchen and Gibbs took a seat on her blue couch, without her invitation. He threw her green throw cushions on the floor. Holly settled down on the other end of the couch. "What's with the change in routine?" Holly said; usually they ate steak at Gibbs' house on a Wednesday. Today was a Tuesday, they were at her apartment, and they were eating Chinese food.

"Ziva's mother came to town," Gibbs said.

Holly silently recalled everything she knew about the Israeli; they had only met for a few minutes. Ziva had seemed less perturbed by the idea of Holly's former career than Abby had been; Holly had gotten the impression Ziva had done what Holly had arranged to be done, but for a different currency – Intel instead of money. Holly also knew that like Abby she was fiercely protective of Gibbs and vice versa.

"What happened?" Holly said as she poured wine for the pair of them.

She knew Ziva had lucked out in terms of family members, all the good ones were dead and so were the majority of the bad ones except her father, whom she seemed to have a very complicated relationship with that Holly could not possibly understand, nor did she try too.

"They talked for the first time in fifteen years, and Rivka got back together with someone she was sleeping with for most of her marriage to Eli," Gibbs reported. Holly spat out her wine; she had not expected that sentence to come from Gibbs' mouth. She began to wonder how Ziva turned out so well-rounded, if her mother had issues with monogamy and her father was, as far as Gibbs was concerned, a waste of oxygen, and Holly was inclined to believe him.

"How come the old people get laid more often than the young people at NCIS?" She asked; she was indeed very curious at how Ducky was getting laid more than Tony. Holly was also very curious as to how Jimmy had such a good-looking girlfriend, when DiNozzo could not.

Gibbs knew what she was referring to; Ducky and Jordan Hampton, who seemed to have a healthy relationship, and though Holly was desperate to know, on the one occasion that she had met the pair of them, she had refrained from asking about their bedroom activities.

"Dunno," Gibbs said with a mouthful of Chinese.

"Didn't your mother raise you with manners?" Holly asked as Gibbs sucked in a noodle.

"She died when I was twelve," Gibbs said. Holly's face fell.

"I'm sorry," she said. Though she too had lost her mother, as well as her father, just a few weeks after her eighteenth birthday, Gibbs had the monopoly on loss in the room. Gibbs drank an entire glass of wine in one gulp.

"Rivka said something about the fear of losing people again and that it should not create a fear of loving someone," Gibbs said. Holly was for the second time that evening taken aback by Gibbs' statement. She was also puzzled by what the fifty-two-year-old man was trying to convey. She poured him a glass of wine. He pushed it away.

"Can't," he said, "or I can't drive home." Holly pushed the glass back.

"You don't have to leave," she said. Gibbs took a sip of wine. A smirk crossed his face. Holly let a smile cross her face and decided she would examine the brushstrokes of the Mona Lisa tomorrow for her Art History thesis. Holly had quit the game in favour of completing the university studies she had quit due lack of finical stability which had led her into the game.

**XXX**

Rivka stepped into Bashan's ground-floor apartment; he had warned her during the drive there that he did not have a cleaner, and Rivka found the sixty-five-year-old man was not lying. The walls were a plain shade of coffee brown, and relatively bare; the main wall only had a large print of Haifa across it. The wall by the front door had two photographs, one of Bashan and Ariel Sharon many years ago when they had both had brown hair, and another of Bashan standing next to Rivka Yaakov and her two children. A stranger could have mistaken the photo for a family portrait, and Rivka wondered how many strangers did. How many delivery people or Mormons on their missions mistook the photo as a family portrait and walked out wondering where Bashan's family was.

Rivka looked around the lounge room; Bashan did not have a television, and instead he had a radio that looked like it was from the late 1950's. It was of a cream colour, with a handle and a dial. A smile crossed Rivka's face; she remembered stopping by at Bashan's apartment in Tel Aviv when the children had been at school, and seeing Bashan fiddling with his radio. He would stop when Rivka let herself in and they would use their time wisely.

"Do you want something to eat?" Bashan asked, as Rivka surveyed Bashan's small garden from the window. Bashan had a green thumb; his vice was gardening. He escaped the guilt of the crimes he had committed by forcing himself to concentrate on his garden. The first buds of the spring flowers were already out.

_Rivka stood in the glass-walled sunroom of her house. Ziva had a project to grow a plant for school; it was supposed to teach the class of eight-year-olds about responsibility. It had been ten days and the plant had not grown despite Ziva and Rivka's best efforts. Ziva was stomping her feet angrily._

"_Why won't it grow?" Ziva said; she shouted as she stomped her feet. Tali was standing over the plant._

"_Grow please," she whispered. Ziva pushed it out of her way._

"_You're the reason it's not growing," Ziva shouted, "You cursed it."_

"_Did not," Tali replied._

"_Did too," Ziva shouted back._

_Rivka could not stand the noise, and her two daughters seemed content to blame each other for cursing the plant. Rivka found herself wishing Eli was back; all the other mothers in the schoolyard, most of whom Rivka disliked, talked of how their husbands would help out in those kinds of situations. Rivka liked Dina Litzak, a rich widow. They had found themselves nostalgic for the husbands they both disliked; Rivka, however, was lucky that Eli would come home eventually. Dina was not so lucky. Rivka walked into the kitchen and dialled a familiar number._

"_We have a plant emergency," Rivka whispered into the phone. Bashan let out a chuckle on the other end; she heard him grab his car keys before he hung up._

_Bashan arrived within twenty minutes. Ziva and Tali were still bickering over who had cursed the plant._

"_Nobody cursed the plant," Bashan declared; the two curly-haired girls were silenced. Bashan looked at the potted plant. He turned to Rivka and signalled that the plant was beyond salvation._

"_Girls," Rivka said, "I'm sure you have other homework." They stood still for a second. Tali eventually ran off to her bedroom to collect her homework; Ziva still stood with her eyes focused on the plant._

"_I promise you, Ziva, the plant will still be here when you have done your mathematics homework," Bashan said. Ziva took a final look at the plant before joining her sister in the dining room and tackling the pile of homework._

_Rivka checked that the children were doing their homework and led Bashan outside the glass-windowed sunroom. She lit a cigarette._

"_The plant is dead, isn't it?" Rivka said._

"_It was never alive to begin with. The seed did not germinate; sometimes they don't." Bashan uttered as he took a puff of Rivka's smoke._

"_Like trying for children," Rivka said. Bashan looked at Rivka. He wondered what Rivka was alluding to; did Eli want yet another child?_

"_Some men are greedy," Bashan said. Rivka smiled._

"_Don't worry, there will not be another David child for you and Uriel to play pseudo-daddy with; I nipped that idea in the bud," Rivka said. She quickly changed the subject, "What am I going to tell Ziva? She does not need this; Eli is not here and she will blame me."_

"_We do not have to tell her anything," Bashan said as an idea crossed his mind. "I will go buy a ready-planted plant and put in the original pot, once you send them to bed."_

"_You spoil my children," Rivka declared; she kissed his lips. His mouth lingered longer than it should have. She slowly teased him off her. "If Ruth Rubenstein sees us I will be labelled the whore of Tel Aviv." Bashan nodded and wished Rivka lived separate from nosy neighbours and wives of other Mossad officers. They walked back inside, his hands on her hips; Rivka quickly banished them as she looked through to the dining room. "I will thank you for helping me," Rivka whispered; her breath lingered in his ear, and the promised lingered in his brain._

"_Officer Bashan is going to get some special powder to make the plant grow; we will not tell your classmates," Rivka said as she drifted towards the kitchen. Bashan nodded and walked out the front door. _

_He returned an hour later, with plant food and a ready-planted plant. He stowed the replacement plant under the patio table before he went into the sunroom, where Ziva and Tali were. They watched as he poured the plant food on the ingeminated seed. _

"_Now we have to wait until the morning," Bashan said. "And when we wake up so will the plant," he told the children, who seemed pacified by his lies._

"_Bedtime," Rivka announced; both children resisted. Rivka managed to persuade them. "Say thank you to Officer Bashan first."_

"_Thank you Officer Bashan," the two girls said, using the formal name for Bashan their father taught them to use despite the fact they considered him like an Uncle. They said it in a tone that made them sound like angels. They rushed upstairs._

"_Thank you Miche," Rivka said before following them._

_Bashan took the replacement plant from where it was hidden. He tipped some of the soil out of the terracotta pot that said 'Ziva' on it and switched the plants over. He heard Rivka read to her children in Tali's bedroom. 'Ballet Shoes' was brought to life; Bashan found himself wishing that he were more than just pretend daddy for a day. He banished his thoughts and put the pot with the new plant in it back where it had been._

_Rivka returned a few minutes later and led him upstairs._

"_We have to be quiet," she whispered._

_As Bashan was leaving at one am the next morning, he saw Ziva standing in the hallway._

"_You switched the plants," Ziva said. Bashan looked at the confused eight-year-old with only guilt in his heart. She did not understand what was going on; she and Tali were caught in the middle of their parents' marital woes, and Bashan was an accessory to the pain of her childhood._

"_I did," Bashan said, not looking the eight-year-old in the eye._

"_Why?" Ziva asked._

"_Your mother did not want you to be sad," Bashan said. Ziva nodded._

"_Do you do everything based on what my mother wants?" she asked. Bashan nodded and walked out._

_He was about to start the car when he heard the pot smash._

"She broke that pot," Rivka said as Bashan wrapped his arms around her from behind. She smiled.

"I know," Bashan said. Rivka turned around. She faced Bashan.

"I should not have left without saying goodbye," Rivka said. "In fact I should of probably not have gotten involved with you when I was with Eli."

"Why did you stay with him?" Bashan asked.

"Eli was secure," Rivka said. "When I was with Eli I had a house and my children had their father. I was not happy but my children were." Bashan nodded; they had come up with the idea to run away together one night in bed, bought plane tickets and everything once upon time but Rivka had bailed out for her children's sake.

"The past is the past," Bashan whispered. He was too old to have grudges, he thought; too old to hate Eli, especially since he had quit. The last two days had brought his life into perspective and Bashan realized he desperately wanted to be with Rivka. "But I would like to have a future with you, whatever time we have left, especially now that I no longer work for Mossad." Rivka kissed Bashan's lips.

"I like the sound of that," She added before they drifted towards his bedroom.

**A/N**: So, I know I advertised this as being all T/Z … sorry that's the next chapter. When I replied to your reviews, I had just done seven hours of school, walked for twenty minutes to work then worked … and now have to do a pile of homework and it's only the second day of schoolyear.

Anonymous033 thanks for betaing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Ziva stood outside Tony's small kitchen in his third-floor apartment; she leant on his kitchen counter, while he pulled out a variety of different ingredients, including whole-wheat spaghetti and jarred pasta sauce. She looked around his apartment; it had white walls, which were covered with OSU posters and old movie posters. It had once had a poster with a naked woman but it seemed Tony had listened to Ziva and Abby's protest about it being bad taste and taken it down. A big widescreen television took centre stage in the lounge room; it stood on the dark-coloured wooden cabinet, with a collection of DVDs underneath it, as well as some books and CDs. An iPod dock sat on one of the spare shelves. Tony had put his iPod in it, and put on a playlist of John Mayer, Frank Sinatra, and Matt Dusk.

Ziva turned back to Tony in the kitchen after a small swearword escaped his lips. She raised her eyebrows as Tony pulled out a half-empty bag of rice and Indian-flavoured tomatoes in a can; Tony had obviously not been expecting to cook for her, and his intentions to do so had clearly been spontaneous as he did not have adequate ingredients. The offer had been sweet and she knew it had truly come from the heart. She wondered if it was time to share her skill of creating a meal from nothing, a skill she had picked up as a teenager when she had not wanted to eat Rivka's version of food, and had used in many safehouses.

"I could help," Ziva said as she drifted into his kitchen; she opened his fridge and found fresh mushrooms and saw onions in the open pantry. She collected the vegetables and laid them on the wooden chopping board. She collected a knife from the wooden knife stand.

"Should I be worried with you and the knives?" Tony asked. Ziva laughed a little bit.

"Only if you do not put the pasta on," Ziva said, pointing to the hob.

"As you wish," Tony said as he filled a silver pan with water.

"I have seen the Princess Bride," Ziva whispered. She wondered if Tony meant the same thing when he said _as you wish _as when Wesley had said it; if he meant _I love you_. Ziva mentally headslapped herself for thinking such silly thoughts. Tony was her friend, she reminded herself, even if she wanted him to be more than that.

"Well there goes my plan for the movie part of this evening," Tony said. Ziva put the vegetables in a frying pan. Tony noticed she did not have a wooden spoon. He leaned behind her and collected a wooden spoon; he placed it in her hand.

"Todah," she whispered. He stood behind her as she fried off the vegetables. John Mayer's 'Come Back to Bed' played on Tony's iPod. Ziva swung her hips and hummed along to the familiar tune. Tony wrapped his arms around her; she did not reject his touch. She stirred the vegetables. Tony's hand rested on her forearm.

"Don't hold your love over my head," Tony sang, repeating the song lyrics. Ziva swayed her hips. The song ended, and so did Ziva's dancing. Tony still stood too close to her. They were both silent. Ziva leant over and grabbed the jar of pasta sauce. Tony moved to check on the pasta. Ziva kept stirring. Tony collected the plates.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," Ziva said as she stirred the sauce onto the vegetables.

"I'm going to grab a shower," he whispered; he put his hands on her waist as he walked out of the kitchen, pretending he was squeezing past despite the fact the kitchen had adequate space for both of them. Ziva did not reply; she checked on the pasta again and continued to cook, still humming the John Mayer song.

The water ran over him. He considered turning on the cold water as he needed a cold shower. He thought about his and Ziva's little dance. He had been tempted to kiss her but had chickened out, because of his crippling fear his rejection. He turned off the shower. He got out and wrapped the towel around himself. He could smell Ziva's cooking; he headed to his bedroom and got changed.

Ziva examined the food she had created. It was hardly her best work but she blamed it on the lack of herbs and extra ingredients in Tony's pantry. She could also blame it on the fact that their little dance had caused her to overcook the vegetables. She served up the spaghetti as Tony emerged. She admired his physical form; he was wearing jeans that were a tiny bit too tight, and an OSU t-shirt which was also a little tight. Tony had dried himself properly so the grey shirt clung to his chest, showing off a flat chest but not quite a six pack. He grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge.

"You're a miracle worker," Tony said as he watched her serve up the food; they sat down on either side of his coffee table. They ate in silence. Tony sucked the spaghetti in, making a silly noise; Ziva laughed at his childlike behaviour. Tony smiled at the sound of her laugh, a laugh he and the rest of the team seldom heard. Ziva finished her first bottle of beer.

"Want another?" Tony asked. Ziva shook her head.

"I need to drive home," she said.

"We left your car in the Navy Yard, and I have every intention of having a second beer so I can't drive you home," he said, taking a second beer.

"I could take your car," Ziva said as she ate the last of her meal. Tony spluttered and coughed up his beer.

"I think not," he said. "Your driving is bad enough and you've had beer."

"So you are holding me hostage in your house?" She asked in a seductive tone as she took a second beer and put the bottle to her lips.

"No, I'm simply suggesting a sleepover," he said. Ziva looked away from him. "I'll take the couch," he said.

"No," Ziva whispered, shaking her head, "We are both adults, we can share a bed."

There was silence as Tony ate the last of the food on his plate. He put his knife and fork together on the plate.

"Your mother raised you with manners," Ziva said, changing the subject, as she did the same with her knife and fork.

"No, the various maids and nannies did," Tony said. "You going to tell me Black Swan and Magen David raised you with manners?" He picked up his dishes.

"You know that saying 'it takes a village to raise a child'?" Ziva said, following him to the kitchen.

"You were raised by a village of Mossad officers and childless relatives," Tony finished as he put the dishes in the sink.

"Yes," Ziva said quietly; she looked into the distance as memories of her Aunt Nettie teaching her to cook crossed her mind. She also remembered her Uncle Uriel taking her horse-riding. She remembered Bashan sitting next to Eli's empty place during her dance recitals, and her anger and resentment at her mother's extra-marital lover for being there instead of her father.

"I'll do these," Tony said as he began to run the water; Ziva lingered too close. "You could get a shower."

"Are you telling me I smell?" Ziva said. Tony gulped; he had really put his foot in his mouth this time. Despite having insulting her, Ziva still stood too close. She most definitely did not smell; despite her having worked for two days solid he could smell the faint scent of her exotic fruit shampoo and her pomegranate moisturizer.

"No," Tony said. Ziva sniffed herself and moved away from him.

"I will take you up on your offer," Ziva whispered; her hand lingered on his shoulder before walking away.

She stood in his shower under the awning of warm water and allowed herself to recall the past two days, remembering everything that had happened. Her mother was back in her life, her mother's extra-marital lover was back in her life and planning to stay, and she and Tony were trying to navigate their sea of feelings and form a relationship that may or may not have romantic intentions. She turned the water off and got out of the shower; it was then she encountered a problem. All of her spare clothes were either being worn by her mother or dirty from a day of her wearing them. She found that in her khaki go bag she had clean pyjamas, though they were quite revealing. She decided to put them on.

She emerged in Tony's lounge room dressed in a grape camisole with matching boyleg underwear that Tony could not see because she had put her jeans on over the top. Tony's jaw dropped; he quickly closed it so he did not embarrass himself. Ziva yawned.

"Wanna skip the movie?" Tony said as he looked up at her big brown eyes. Despite wanting to admire her body, he did not, in case she threatened to kill him.

"You do not mind?" Ziva asked as she headed towards his bedroom.

"No," he whispered as he followed her; she pulled off her jeans and when Tony saw that she had matching panties on, his jaw dropped again.

"Like the view, DiNozzo?" She whispered as she turned around. Then Tony saw the scars on her upper thighs; he tried to hide his expression. He saw the little lines and he was sad for the torment his partner had had to go through, and that she would always have the physical scars from Somalia just as she would always carry the emotional ones. The scars did not disgust him; he wanted to kiss them better.

She slid into bed, covering herself with the red covers; she had seen him looking at her scars and found herself feeling ugly. He pulled off his shirt and jeans, revealing his boxers, which were grey and form-fitting. Ziva raised her eyebrows in surprise and a sneaky smile crossed her face; her ugly thoughts were quickly forgotten.

He slid under the covers and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She turned and looked at him. Their eyes met; emerald faced chocolate. He took a deep breath and inhaled her scent; she felt his breath on her face. They moved closer together, like magnets from opposite poles. Finally, their lips met. The kiss was soft at first; they separated and looked into each other's eyes, asking for consent to go further. Their lips met again, and this time it was like a rough sea crashing against a cliff face. Hands began to drift under the covers, touching skin. The kiss deepened.

Tony ran his hands over Ziva's scars. She tensed up. Tony broke off the kiss. He moved his mouth to her scars and kissed every single one of them softly and carefully. He looked up at her when he finished; she pulled him up so their lips met again.

That night, the pair made love, making up for five years of lost time and unresolved sexual tension. They finally fell asleep in each other's arms, completely satisfied. Ziva fell asleep first, and Tony held her until sleep finally overtook her. _I love you_, he thought, _if only I could tell you._ He then began to wonder how she would react; best case scenario was she would say it too, worst case was she would run for the hills and Team Gibbs would be minus a crucial part of the team. Rule twelve then echoed in his head,_never date a co-worker_, and though the pair of them had not yet been on a date, Tony was pretty sure the rule encompassed falling in love with a co-worker too. Gibbs was going to kill him. He fell asleep a few seconds later.

Ziva slept with a smile across her olive features all night, but she too had the same thoughts as Tony – what would Gibbs do when he found out she and Tony had slept together? Would Tony want to do this again? Did he love her like she loved him? She pretended to be asleep in Tony's arms, as she wished that for once her life could be simple. The night was not a complete loss, as for the first night in over a year and a half, she slept without being awoken by a nightmare; Tony's arms seemed to protect her from her ghosts.

Both had the same final wish before falling asleep – that they wake up together.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Tony woke up to Ziva stirring; her phone was playing her ringtone and vibrating loudly. Tony turned to look at his alarm clock. It was nearly eleven in the morning. He wondered how the pair of them had managed to sleep so late.

"David," she uttered thickly as she moved Tony's hand away from her body.

"Ziva," Rivka said. "Have you forgotten our plans?"

"No," Ziva said as she got up, and placed her feet on Tony's cold floor; Tony tried to pull her back into bed.

"Bring Tony," Rivka said; Ziva heard Bashan flitter around in the background.

"Ok," Ziva said.

"Miche bought a cake; I'm not in the mood to bake one," Rivka said in a happy voice, and Ziva wondered if this was Rivka's way of coping with the fact that she should be celebrating Tali's birthday and not memorializing her. Ziva rubbed her temple as she woke up.

"Ok ima," She said, having not quite listened to the last part of what Rivka had said. "I have to go ima."

"Wear a skirt please," Rivka said before Ziva hung up. Ziva looked at Tony, who had rolled over and fallen back to sleep. She hovered over him; she was tempted to pour water on him to wake him up, but he rolled over again and faced her.

"My mother is expecting us," Ziva said as Tony opened his eyes. "And I need to go back to my apartment to find something to wear."

"I need coffee first," Tony said as he slowly got up.

**XXX**

Tony sat on Ziva's red couch in her apartment almost an hour later, as she showered and changed her clothes. He had not followed her into her bedroom to give her some space and privacy, as much as he wanted to see her with few clothes on. He knew she needed space, as she had been acting strange; though so had he. They had woken up together and were now having to negotiate if the previous night's fun would be repeated or if it was a onetime thing. Tony wanted nothing more than a happy ever after with Ziva, including a house and a pet, though probably not children; but with their histories and parents, a happy ever after was something reserved only for fairytales.

When pondering his relationship status with Ziva made his head hurt, he found himself thinking about Ziva's mother; though he had met Rivka less than twenty-four hours before, he would now be meeting her as his partner's (and woman-he-just-slept-with's) mother. He had not done well the last time he met a girlfriend's parent, but that was different, he told himself; he had been lying. Tony DiNozzo would do it much better than Tony DiNardo ever did.

Ziva's bedroom door opened; she stepped out in a jade green dress, which was the same shade of green she had worn when she was undercover as Sophie Ranier. This one dipped low on her back, and the front exaggerated her petite but perfect cleavage. The dress was more of a daytime dress than the evening dress she had worn all those years ago, but Tony wanted to rip it off her right then and there. She had flat dark-coloured shoes on and her hair was free and curly. He was reminded of the wild Ziva that had stepped into the NCIS orange-walled bullpen and accused him of having phone sex.

"Shall we go?" Ziva whispered as she grabbed an olive-coloured coat with military style buttons.

**XXX**

Rivka sat on the floor of Bashan's Spartan lounge room; she had been given back her bag from Leo's boat the day before and had found a nice blue dress that Bashan had been very impressed with when she had emerged from the bathroom in it. She had also found her photos. Most of them had either Ziva or Tali in them, but some had both of Rivka's daughters in them; she seldom looked at the photographs despite carrying them with her all the time. There was not one of Eli. Even though Rivka did have a picture of herself on her wedding day, dressed in a white gown with her hand covering the hint of the baby bump that held Ziva, Eli was not in that picture. Rivka preferred not to remember Eli, a man she had given her heart to and loved, only for his loyalty to his country to come first. Eli had disappeared the morning after they had gotten married and returned the day before Ziva was born; that was the first sign that according to Eli's priorities it was Mossad first, family second. Rivka's negative thoughts about her former husband disappeared when she found a photo of newborn Ziva; she had a pink hat on her head, and she was red-faced and crying. She found a second photo taken a couple of hours later, when Ziva had been in Eli's brother Uriel's arms, minus the hat; she was sound asleep. Then she found a photo of four-year-old Ziva holding newborn Tali, who was wrapped in pink. Tali was asleep and Ziva had a massive smile on her face. Bashan saw Rivka holding the photograph as he emerged from his garden.

"She would be thirty-one today," Rivka said, trying to hold back tears, "I used to wish it had been me that died because at least then Tali would be alive. She would have graduated university, married, and had children of her own." Bashan wrapped his arms around Rivka, not saying anything because the truth was he was sort of thinking about Tali too; he had loved her like his own and her death had hurt him too. "It is not natural to bury a child, it is not fair."

"Ziva will be here soon," Bashan said quietly, trying to change the subject to stop his pain from getting unbearable; he was certain Rivka's emotional pain was far worse than his and already unbearable. Rivka nodded, and Bashan handed her a tissue. She wiped her eyes. Bashan gave her a soft kiss on the forehead as he got up and headed to the bedroom to change into some more suitable clothes for the upcoming gathering.

Rivka put the photos in a neat pile on the coffee table as the doorbell went. Bashan emerged fully dressed and dashed towards the door.

"Ima, I brought Tony and wine." Ziva said though the door.

Bashan opened the door, and found Tony and Ziva standing in front of him. Tony's hands were around Ziva's waist. Bashan immediately knew they had slept together, not only by their actions but by the very happy look on DiNozzo's face. Ziva stepped forward, handing Bashan the wine, and undoing her coat. Bashan was surprised to see Ziva in a green dress. Rivka emerged; she too was surprised by Ziva's clothing.

"A dress," she uttered in a surprised tone. Ziva smiled.

"Believe it or not ima, I do not live in combat pants and tank tops all the time," Ziva said in a sarcastic tone as she gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, "Look I brought Tony too."

"Shalom," Tony said, raising his hand as if he were waving; Rivka smiled at Tony's greeting.

"Bongiorno," she replied, greeting him in Italian.

Both Tony and Ziva could tell Rivka was flustered about something; Tony noticed the pile of photographs and the tear streaks down Rivka's face. Ziva seemed to notice it too. She began talking to Rivka in a language Tony did not understand.

"What are they saying?" Tony asked Bashan.

"I have no idea. I believe they are speaking French; it is not one of my languages," Bashan said. Tony noticed the sadness in the older man's eyes; he too had known Tali, and judging by the way Ziva described his presence in her life, he probably had been to too many birthdays where the birthday girl had been present and not just a memory.

Ziva and Rivka drifted towards the pile of photographs. Ziva looked at them; her eyes became glassy as she did, but she also smiled as she recalled the memories associated with the photographs. Both mother and daughter described memories and talked in French. Their conversation ended. Rivka grabbed paper crown and placed it on Ziva's head. A smile crossed Ziva's face.

"What are they doing?" Tony asked.

"It's their birthday tradition," Bashan said, "They would wear paper crowns and sing Happy Birthday. Do not ask my why because I have no idea."

"Okay," Tony said, slightly confused by the whole proceeding but interested all the same. Bashan collected a small store-bought chocolate cake from his kitchen. He handed Ziva two candles, one with the number three and one with the number one, and matches; she put the candles on the cake and lit them. Rivka came and put green paper crowns on both Tony and Bashan's heads. Ziva and Rivka began singing Happy Birthday in Hebrew. Bashan and Tony stood on the other side of the room. Tears pricked Rivka's eyes as she said Tali's name. Ziva's arms wrapped around her mother, rubbing Rivka's back; she had decided that however much she hurt her mother was in more pain than she was, and she needed to comfort Rivka.

"What was she like?" Tony asked Bashan, who was looking at Rivka and Ziva with a sad look.

"Tali?" Bashan asked.

"Yeah," Tony said. Bashan watched as Ziva hugged her mother. He found himself remembering the little girl who had liked to dance around the lounge and who could not sit still. Bashan remembered seeing her as a teenager, on one of the few occasions Rivka had allowed Eli to see his daughters; Tali had supported just about every charity or cause, from giving Holocaust survivors a better pension to peace throughout the Middle East. Bashan remembered all the badges on her bag, and a note book covered in words from magazines.

"She and Ziva were very different," Bashan said, "Tali was a lot more emotional, and had a compassionate heart. She wanted to help people in a different way to Ziva. Tali did not understand why Israel was what it was. She wanted what every Israeli wanted; she wanted peace, but she did not see war as a way to get peace, like Ziva did. Even though Tali hated Ziva being in the army and Mossad she still loved her very much; it was the same with Ziva. Even though they did not see eye to eye on very much, Ziva loved her, and they had music tastes in common; they both loved the Cardigans." Bashan paused; Tony racked his mind, trying to remember who the Cardigans were, and found himself remembering the Swedish pop band that Ziva sometimes listened too. "I know Eli and Rivka loved them both equally; it was just easier for Ziva and Eli to get on, just like it was easier for Tali and Rivka to get along."

Ziva and Rivka blew out the candles, still holding each other's hands.

"Happy Birthday Tali," Tony said. Ziva heard him; a smile crossed her face. She let go of Rivka and walked to Tony; she took the crown off his head. They lingered; both of them wanted to kiss each other, but they did not know where they stood in this new chapter of their relationship. Ziva gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek.

**XXX**

Rivka had decided that she was going to cook; Bashan and Ziva had shot fearful looks across the room as Rivka drifted to the kitchen, and Tony understood enough to know that cooking was not one of Rivka's fortes. Rivka had turned on the stereo, and it was blasting out a song by The Cardigans.

"Don't blame your daughter, that's just sentimental" echoed though the apartment; it seemed to make both Ziva and Rivka think too much, so Ziva changed the song, and put one of Bashan's The Beatles CD's on.

"Lucy in the sky with diamonds," played in the small apartment.

"We should cook together," Ziva said as a relieved look crossed Bashan's face. So the four of them ended up cooking; Ziva took command of the kitchen and gave Tony and Bashan tasks to do, such as chopping up vegetables and boiling water.

"Do you grow vegetables in your garden, Miche?" Rivka asked as Bashan scooped the seeds out of a capsicum.

"Yes, but not so much in the winter. I think I need to buy a greenhouse to grow better vegetables," Bashan said. Tony had zoned out of the conversation but Ziva was listening.

"You garden?" Ziva asked. Bashan nodded as he poured vegetables into the frying pan.

"I want to put a plant pot on my balcony," Ziva said.

"Miche, show her your garden," Rivka said, trying to promote some bonding between her daughter and her boyfriend; she also wanted to talk to her daughter's partner, whom Rivka suspected Ziva had slept with. Ziva looked at Bashan nervously. "I can look after the food. I am not completely incapable of cooking." Ziva shot Tony a look which asked if he would be all right.

"Go," Tony said.

"Ima," Ziva whispered, "Do not interrogate him." Rivka held up her hands and looked at her daughter with a shocked look on her face.

"How can you even think that?" She said. Ziva and Bashan walked towards the back door and Rivka continued stirring the vegetables in the pan.

**A/N**: One more chapter guys. Reviews will make me happy … because my feet hurt from too long at work and I have English homework to do =[

Anonymous033 you're an awesome beta.


	18. Chapter 18

**erChapter Eighteen**

Ziva stood outside Bashan's apartment. She admired his garden; the plant pots were neat and orderly, a fact that did not surprise Ziva, as Bashan's Mossad operations were always neat and orderly.

"I quit Mossad," the elder man announced. Ziva tried to contain her surprise. Bashan was a loyal person; it would have taken a lot for him to quit Mossad.

"Because of my mother?" Ziva asked.

She looked around the mostly barren winter garden; only one flower was growing. It was a purple flower that had been Tali's favourite, mostly because it always bloomed on her birthday. The first flower of spring, she had called it, a symbol of a new season. Just like Tali's birth. She had been born on a new day and in new season. She had had a new outlook, she was to be a bringer of peace and harmony, and yet she had ironically been taken in an act of violent warfare.

"Rivka was one of the reasons," Bashan said. "But not the only one." Ziva nodded.

"Have you made any plans?" Ziva asked, making small talk; she wondered if Bashan felt the same relief and freedom she had when she quit Mossad over a year ago.

"I plan to spend my time wisely and with your mother. I hope we will be happy." Bashan said.

"Good," she said quietly, "My mother deserves some happiness."

"As do you," Bashan uttered; he hoped Ziva would get the hint and talk to Tony. He would have loved to see her happy with Tony. Bashan had read up on Agent DiNozzo and his life; he wished Tony some happiness too, as Tony most definitely deserved it. Ziva was looking through the glass door into the apartment where Rivka and Tony were having a vivid conversation.

"What do you think they are talking about?" Ziva asked.

"I do not know. I never did master lip-reading," Bashan said as he checked on his plants. He watched Tony and Rivka talk; he saw their happy expressions. He was quite certain what their conversation was about. It was about Ziva.

**XXX**

Rivka and Tony did their assigned tasks without speaking; occasionally Rivka would hum a few lines from the Beatles song playing.

"Um Rivka," Tony said quietly, feeling slightly weird calling her Rivka.

"Yes Tony," Rivka said as the song changed.

"How do you say 'I love you' in Hebrew?" Tony asked. Rivka's heart melted as she considered what Tony's question meant; did he want to tell Ziva he loved her? Rivka had noticed the pair of them when they arrived; they had definitely slept together but their eyes had shown confusion and conflict, and Rivka had suspected they were both unsure about what their night together meant.

"Are you going to say it to Ziva?" Rivka asked; she believed he was but wanted to be sure.

"Who else?" Tony asked as he checked the rice that was cooking. A smile crossed Rivka's face.

"Are you sure you love her?" Rivka said as she put her over-protective Mama-bear hat on, a hat she had not worn for over fifteen years. Tony hesitated. "I do not want my daughter getting hurt."

"I'm sure," Tony said confidently. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life." Rivka heard his words and knew he was being honest.

"You say it like this," Rivka whispered. "Ani Obhev Otacha." Tony listened and nodded. "A-ni Ob-hev O-ta-cha," Rivka repeated, this time sounding it out.

"Ani Obhev Otacha," Tony said nervously; he got the pronunciation slightly wrong. So Rivka corrected it and he said it again perfectly.

"Yes," Rivka said she clapped her hands softly. "Well done."

"Thank you," Tony said. Rivka put her arm around Tony's shoulders.

"Welcome to the family," she whispered as Ziva and Bashan walked in.

"Smells good," Bashan said as Ziva went to inspect the food. She tasted a bit.

"Tastes good too," Ziva said in a slightly surprised tone.

"See, I am not completely hopeless," Rivka said as she collected plates.

The four of them sat around Bashan's seldom-used round dining room table and talked. Tony and Ziva told Rivka and Bashan about old and rather strange cases, much to Bashan's and Rivka's amusement and disgust.

"So this guy killed this girl's father to get her grandmother's engagement ring out of his intestines because he had swallowed it as a child, and staged it like a devil-worshipping sacrifice," Tony said, recalling a strange case from two years ago.

"That is disgusting," Rivka declared as she took a long sip of water.

"It is hardly the most disgusting," Ziva said as she, too, took a sip of water.

"Definitely the top ten," Tony said. "The one with the severed head five years ago was yuck." Bashan and Ziva both looked down, remembering the Mossad officer who had been killed in such a way. "I forgot."

Tony grabbed Ziva's hand as he remembered her tale of her friend who had died in such a way. He remembered her telling him of her determination not to be captured alive. A determination that had changed as she spent longer with NCIS; he understood that her change of opinion on being capture alive had nothing to do with her becoming soft as Mossad had tried to accuse her of, but with her now having a determination to live and people to live for.

"Officer Hofi was a good operative," Bashan uttered. Rivka offered her hand to Bashan as comfort.

"Yes," Ziva said; when she looked at the sad faces she was determined to change the mood. "Do you remember when we were at that lawyer's office? And the lawyer's name was Sean and you told me you knew exactly what he looked like even though you had never met him. You gave me this description of a forty-year-old man with a comb-over as we waited, and it turned out to be a young blonde woman." Rivka laughed, and a smirk crossed Bashan's face. Ziva chuckled too.

"That actually reminds me of Ziva as a child," Rivka said. Ziva was suddenly quiet, and she shot her mother a don't-you-dare look. "For an entire year she wore only boys' clothes, and she got everyone to call her Zvi." Tony laughed.

"If you tell anyone that I will kill you, and I will start with your favourite part of your anatomy," Ziva said as her hands grazed his pants under the table.

"Tell me more," Tony said; Ziva dug her fingers into his thigh.

"She was afraid of crabs as a child." Rivka said, "I took her and Tali to the beach and Tali found a crab; she held it up to Ziva to show her, and Ziva screamed so loud everyone on the beach stopped what they were doing."

"Are you still afraid of them?" Tony asked Ziva.

"No," she replied unconvincingly.

"Well we could go to the beach and see," Tony said. "Or we could maybe go to Hawaii for a holiday or something." Ziva let go of his thigh and poured herself another glass of water. She wondered if Tony had meant what he had just said; if he wanted to go on holiday with her, if he wanted more than just one night. "Providing Bossman lets us go, of course." Ziva's heart sank; Gibbs would kill them if he found out they had broken his rule.

**XXX**

The sun had long ago set when Ziva led Tony outside into Bashan's garden. There were coloured lanterns hanging above them. Ziva looked up at the lights, very impressed by them.

"Were you serious about the vacation?" Ziva said, turning to face Tony.

"Sure; one day, we'll go to Hawaii," he said. "Maybe it could be like an anniversary thing," he added nervously. He was not sure if Ziva would like what he was trying to say; he wondered if Ziva wanted them to have a relationship, or if she just wanted one night.

"So last night," Ziva said awkwardly, as she analyzed what he had said; did he want something more too? "Was not just a onetime performance."

"I hope not," Tony said. A smile crossed Ziva's face. "Especially since."

"Especially since, what?" Ziva said. Tony took a deep breath, debating over whether he should even say it; but now seemed like as good a time as any.

"Ani Obhev Otacha," Tony said. Ziva moved closer; she planted a kiss on his lips.

"Ti Amo," she whispered, telling him she loved him in a Italian.

"What?" Tony said.

"So much for it being a universal language," Ziva uttered. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said. They kissed. Reality hit them a few seconds later as they broke apart; they realized that they needed to navigate the choppy waters of their new relationship.

"What about-" Ziva began before Tony covered her mouth.

She considered all the consequences and issues; Gibbs' rule, Vance's dislike of co-workers sleeping together, Eli, and all the other issues that could arise as they tried to nurture a serious, monogamous, long-term relationship while working together. How would they have space if they saw each other twenty-four hours a day? What would happen if they had different opinions on a case; would that cause issues at home? Would they have to work on separate teams? What would happen if Vance gave Tony his own team, or sent Ziva somewhere else? Tony had covered her mouth, which stopped her from verbalizing her fears, but not from thinking about them.

"We'll cross those bridges when we get to them," Tony said; he had a strong idea of what Ziva was thinking about, because he was thinking the same things.

He, too, feared what outside forces could do to their relationship, but also what they could to it themselves; neither of them were open people or very good at communicating, and both of them had emotional scar tissue from difficult childhoods and dark places in their adult lives. How would he deal with the aftermath of Somalia? How would Ziva deal with his insecurities? Tony found himself questioning how they would deal with it all. Ziva's hand wrapped around his and gave him his answer.

"Together," Ziva said. "We will cross those bridges together." Tony nodded and kissed her lips again.

**XXX**

The sky was a dark ebony black colour when Rivka Yaakov (formerly David) woke up on the couch in Michael Bashan's apartment. As she woke, she found her head hurt, far worse than it ever had when she had had a fondness for pills or when she had had young children to care for. She squinted, adjusting to being awake and trying to relieve her blinding headache. She had been through worse, she told herself as she vowed never to drink again. Her thoughts turned to the other occupant of the apartment; her boyfriend, former Mossad Operative Michael Bashan. _Where was he? _She wondered.

"Miche," she called out to the empty apartment; she got no response.

She slowly got up, repeating her vow never to drink again.

"Miche," she called again as she walked through the apartment, which was draped in moonlight ,towards the bedroom. Again she got no response. She saw the hump of a body lying on the bed. It moved. Rivka smiled as Michael Bashan rolled over.

"Shalom, Sleeping Beauty," he whispered as Rivka pulled off her blue party dress and slid her nightgown on.

"Why did you not wake me?" She asked. Bashan got out of bed as she fiddled with her champagne-coloured nightgown and curly grey-streaked hair.

"You looked so peaceful when you were asleep," Bashan whispered as he put his hands around Rivka's waist. He kissed her forehead.

"Get into bed; we're too old to do it standing up," Rivka said, getting his hint. They got into bed and Bashan kissed Rivka's lips.

"I love you," he whispered, saying something he had wanted to say for nearly thirty years, but had never said because he had not wanted to upset Rivka more.

"I love you too," Rivka replied as Bashan's hand ran up her nightdress and they made up for twenty years of lost time.

**A/N**: Yes, that's the end. Thank you again to Anonymous033 for being an awesome beta. I also apologize for playing it so fast and loose with the details (how Shane Brennan of me), if I ever write another fic like this it will be better researched.

And because I'm not good with foreign languages I got the Italian word for Good Day/Morning wrong. Sorry! Thanks whitewistaria for pointing it out.

Now for the thank yous.

On LJ: tivafan18, proseac1, sunshine_80, mooncombo.

On FFN: Radafa, daxam1216, whitewistaria, IMSLES, earanemith, M E Wofford, Queequg471, pirate-princess1, marshmeg, aliiahncisxx, Rebel Magnus, ChEmMiE, petuniatc, Rigil Kent, teamtiva, NCIS Connection, tiva2121, gsr4ever, luzma, (blank space), tiva2121, Infinite Rhapsody, ZiLive, gsr4ever, scottiedog, nk, daxam1216

Thank you all so much for your kind reviews and for calling me out on fails.


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